Shadow Contingency
by Andrithir
Summary: As the war against the Covenant takes another turn, humanity must confront a wider galactic community beyond the known regions. (Currently being reworked and edited 20/03/2017)
1. Prologue

**Shadow Contingency**

To safeguard the UEG and its secrets, Task Forces with plausible deniability must be created in order to identify and neutralise threats posed by foreign and domestic powers.  
 _-Shadow Contingency Abstract_

 **Acknowledgements**

My sincerest gratitude to Lady Pryde who helped me develop story, for months on end… as well putting up with my constant pestering for her opinion on my latest idea or cover image.

 **Foreword**

Hello all, this is a story I've had in the works for quite some time now. It was an idea I developed with Lady Pryde, in order to address the shortcomings that was in _Lost Legacy_. Though this story may be the spiritual successor of _Lost Legacy_ , it is not related to it lore wise. Characters and tech have been revised, but overall, they are not the carbon copies of their _Lost Legacy_ counterparts.

Will this story cover the Reclaimer Trilogy? Yes – well no… not really, there will be themes and elements of the Reclaimer Trilogy that I will include in the story, but overall, assume that the Reclaimer Trilogy is a non-grata. I really want to focus on the dynamics of the Bungie's vanilla Halo and Mass Effect factions.

Obviously I will be using ideas that have been retconned by 343i, so think back to pre-2011 Halo, when everything was vague and left up to interpretation. Now, why am I doing this? Well I wish for to return to Halo's sentimental roots. I want to return to a narrative where everything wasn't quite clear cut, where we as the readers we left to make up our own interpretations, instead of the plot spelling it all out for us.

If you want to keep up to date with story news or you want to ask a question, feel free to PM me or head over to the Tumblr page (I know… I have a Tumblr account… please don't hurt me) for this story: **shadowcontingency-dot-tumblr-dot-com**

I would also like to reach out to any Deviantartists who would be interested in creating fan art for this story.

…

 **Prologue**

…

" _There was once a time, when we would gaze up into the stars, and wonder where our place might be among them, we'd imagine the worlds and people we would see, and envision the future we would eventually live in. But in one day, we lost all that… out of the blackness of space, the Covenant came, and with their arrival came the harsh reality that extinction could be an inevitability, that this war cannot be won by ordinary humans."  
_ _ **-LTCOL Dr Charleston R.E. Keyes**_

…

 **1530 hours, June 7** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
ONI CASTLE Base, Reach**

The war was coming to an end, he could feel it. One way or another, it was going to end soon. Blinking away the tiredness in his eyes Lieutenant Colonel Charleston Keyes spun a pen around his fingers as he read through the reports.

"Colonel," Cooper interrupted.

The AI's avatar was modelled after a monolithic robot from one of Keyes's favourite childhood movie. Despite lacking any anthropomorphic features, the silvery blue slab had "appendages" and joints which gave him an endearing human quality.

"Yes?"

"Admiral Parangosky is here, as you requested, sir."

"Thank you, I'll be out to meet her in a moment."

"Of course."

Logging off his computer, Keyes pushed his chair under his desk and checked his sidearm. Straightening his tie and his Air Force jacket, he picked up his datapad and augmented reality glasses, and headed out into the foyer.

"I trust that this is important," Parangosky said neutrally.

Charles looked at her detail of armed bodyguards, fully kitted in the latest armour and weapons.

 _Strength through paranoia_ … he remembered her say.

"Yes ma'am," Keyes nodded. "Follow me."

The ensemble of shoes and boots gently thumped along the tiled floors of the base. Keyes led them through a labyrinth of security checkpoints before reaching the shuttle tubes.

"After you," he gestured.

Two of her guards stepped in first and made a quick sweep. Once the all clear was given, Parangosky stepped in, followed by Keyes and then the rest of her detail. The doors closed, and the locks hissed shut. He felt the acceleration of the shuttle as it shot through the tube, eventually coming to a halt as it reached the lower levels of the base.

Keyes was the first to step out, giving his challenge ID and countersign to the security station. Passing through another maze of security checkpoints and patrols, the group finally reached their destination. The Colonel led them into an observation room, granting Parangosky a view of the occupant in the chamber below.

"What exactly am I looking at?" the Admiral asked, looking at the unknown alien.

It was humanoid, wore red armour reminiscent of Feudal Japan. Its dark turquoise green skin was similar to that of an amphibian, and its four eyes panned across the room warily.

"A species referred to as a Prothean," Keyes explained. "Found him in a stasis pod on Eden Prime."

"Attempts at communication?" she asked.

"Mind-meld," Keyes answered. "Intern came into contact with it. Also shows an incredible ability to read organic residue."

Parangosky looked at him with an arched brow as if the lack of holidays had begun to take their toll on him.

"When we woke the Prothean, he was disoriented and panicking. Exhibited signs of telekinesis like abilities," the Colonel elaborated.

Tapping a few keys on the nearby console, he brought up the security footage of the incident. After revival, two scientists had hovered over the alien, and without warning or provocation, a dark emerald mist hurled the scientists a few metres back.

"He was confused," Keyes explained. "But he's got his bearings now."

"What have we learned so far?"

"He's been in stasis for at least fifty thousand years," Charles answered. "No evidence to suggest any relation to the Forerunners. He says his species were wiped out by the Reapers."

"Reapers?"

"I don't know," Keyes said, shaking his head. "He became a bit turbulent, spouting off about warnings his species placed. We'll try talking to him again once he's cooled down."

Parangosky took a step closer to the monitory.

"Keep him under lock and key, find out what he knows and give him what luxuries he wants," she commanded.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, I'll get you an assembly, hopefully by October."

"This doesn't take precedence?" Keyes asked, confused; waving a hand to the data combing the AIs were running through the artefacts.

"War is priority, you have to wait."

Without waiting for a goodbye, the Head of ONI turned and left, leaving Keyes alone. Taking a quick glance at his watch, he guessed there was enough time for another _chat_ before he headed home for the day.

Navigating his way to a vault nearby, Charles quickly ran through the security measures before picking up a Prothean artefact before heading back.

It was against protocol for a Project Lead to interact with unknown subjects, but Keyes doubted Parangosky would care. This Prothean was most likely the last of its kind, and Charles wanted answers up front, instead of talking via a proxy.

He walked to the elevators, and readjusted his dark navy blue tie. In one hand he held a datapad, and in the other, a Prothean artefact.

Charles walked out into the cavernous room where a table and other amenities had been placed. Guards patrolled in the shadows, and on the catwalks above. The Prothean looked at Keyes, all four yellow eyes with oddly shaped irises focused on him as his shoes padded silently along the concrete floor.

Placing the artefact front of the Prothean, and the tablet off to a side, Keyes pulled out the chair and eased himself into the synthetic leather seat. Scooting in closer to the table, he cleared his throat.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Charleston Keyes," he introduced himself. "And you are?"

"Prothean."

"You said that last time. What's your name?"

"Javik," the alien answered slowly. "Just like I said… _last_ time."

"Can you tell me what you were doing in that stasis pod"

The Prothean expression shifted something closer to that of human exasperation.

"You were already watching in the beginning… this is pointless," he growled.

He had an accent similar to that of a Nigerian, possibly due to the oral and vocal muscles.

Charles's expression hardened as he shuffled through the files, keeping his eyes firmly locked onto the Prothean's.

"Level with me," Keyes began. "I just need to make sure that everything is in order."

Javik's his four eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Alright, tell me about the Reapers. What are they?"

"They are sentient machines from darkspace. Every fifty thousand years the come to harvest the advance species, erasing almost everything about them."

A worried frown made its way across Keyes's face.

Javik held the device over the centre of the table, projecting a red holographic model into the air. It looked like a mechanised squid or a cuttlefish. Characters began to scroll beside the projection; characters Charles couldn't understand but assumed it was a technical specification – or so he guessed. He couldn't understand the glyphs but hopefully Cooper would be able to translate.

"You were in the stasis pod to guide this… era to fight the Reapers, I'm guessing"

Javik nodded.

"Yes," the Prothean said solemnly. "We would wait in our stasis pods, and wait for the Reapers to return to darkspace. Then we would rise, a million strong."

The excavation team had uncovered thousands of stasis pods with Prothean remains in various stages of decay, most were bone or charred ashes, but some had died fairly recently. Power failure and lack of automation had resigned a lot of the occupants to death in their sleep. The system had been horrifically flawed in Keyes's opinion. At the sign of power failure, triage protocols should've woken up whoever remained, not leave them to die within the pods.

"We haven't found anyone else," Charles said.

"I suspected as much."

Keyes activated the datapad, bringing up a galactic map of the Milky Way.

"How long did this war against the Reapers go on for?"

"Before I was born. By the time of my birth, my home was already in flames. I only learnt of what was through the memories of my ancestors."

Charles clasped both hands onto the table.

"And?"

"We were a proud race. Our empire spanned across the entire galaxy. We used the Mass Relays to expand our borders and to meet new species."

"Relays? These installations?" Keyes asked.

Swiping at the tablet, Keyes brought up a holographic image of a space stations shaped like a tuning fork, with a bulbous end containing two gyroscopic rings encasing an orb of energy.

"Yes, the Mass Relays. We thought they were built by the Inusannon, but they were the creation of the Reapers. The relays would dictate the technological progress and expansion of any species. By the time we had learnt this, it was too late."

"The Inusannon came before you?"

"We believe so."

"What happened during the war?"

"We became desperate," Javik said sadly. "Every battle conjured a new nightmare. The Reapers were turning our own against us, forcing us to kill our own children. We fought them through attrition, system by system, planet by planet, city by city. But the Reapers, they were unstoppable. We sacrificed planets to regroup. The time they spent harvesting was the time we spent gathering our strength."

"Must've cost you in the long run."

Javik nodded.

"When they harvested, they gained far more strength than we could. We were delaying our inevitable defeat. Our empire was already fractured by my birth. We could not communicate to one another; no one knew what the other was doing. The Relays, the Reapers deactivated them, crippling us, stranding countless soldiers on planets. We had to use our own ships to travel the galaxy."

Charles felt an all too familiar chill creep down his spine.

"What happened to the other species?"

"They became Prothean, one of us."

"Subjugation or by choice?" Keyes challenged.

"We offered them a choice. Join us, or face the Reapers alone. Our unity was our greatest strength, but also our greatest weakness. Once the Reapers found our flaw, we could not adapt."

A small vibration thrummed through his wrist, signalling he had just received a message. Pressing the command on his smartwatch, the message popped up in the lower half of his optical heads up display.

 _Beacon decrypted… you might want to see this. Our resident might be helpful too._

Looking back at the Prothean, Charles cleared his throat.

"We'd like you to take a look at a few things for us. Beacons about your history."

"Hmph. What do you seek," Javik huffed.

"I'm not asking you to give away your state secrets, but a little bit of context into what we're looking at would be nice."

"My history?"

Keyes nodded.

"What does it matter about my people? They are dead now."

"Then we can preserve their knowledge."

…

 **1800 hours, June 17** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Arlington County, Virginia, North America  
The Jason Greer Centre for Intelligence – FIA Headquarters**

Josiah Harper, or Jack to his closest friends, was a man of efficiency and utility with an undercurrent of class and opulence like most people of his calibre. He prized optimal efficiency above all, but enjoyed a classy flare to accompany it. As the Director of the UEG's only independent intelligence organisation, the Focal Intelligence Initiative Agency (FIA, phonetically pronounced as Fear; or nicknamed "the Company" or "the Agency"), his office reflected his specific taste. It was sparse, but open with gigantic curved wall monitors, and reflective black tile flooring.

Over the years in his tenure on as the Director, he had voiced his concerns about the growing power of ONI behind closed doors. While the UNSC maintained martial law, the Senate was unable to do anything except for "minor" legislative and administrative issues. He understood the need for the UNSC to be in total control so to not expose any colonies unwittingly and to restrict the travel of insurrectionists, but absolute power had a tendency to corrupt.

Over twenty-five years of martial law, and surprisingly, the UNSC hadn't descended into a completely oppressive fascist totalitarian regime, but the Office of Naval Intelligence was certainly heading down that path. Section II continually pumped out propaganda and restricted communication, even going so far as to hamper the communication networks of the Initiative.

That was something he complained to the Office of the Directorate of Intelligence (ODIN) immediately, but unfortunately, since the ODIN was not the UNSC, it was powerless to do anything to ONI but send letters.

That wasn't to say all of ONI was bad, Harper knew a lot of Officers on a personal level, and they were all just tired people trying to win the war and go home. It was the small number in leadership positions he had his concerns.

Taking a sip of his coffee, his bionic blue eyes looked blankly at the animated star wallpaper on his desktop background. It had been an incredibly long day for him. FIA cells that managed to break through the interference were sending in more reports about a new faction coming into the scene.

They were identified as batarians, four-eyed humanoids who were interest in slavery much like the Jackals, but seemed to lack a religious fervour. That didn't sit well with Harper. If the batarians were only abducted humans purely for trade, which meant that there were people in the unknown regions of the galaxy willing to buy.

In the grand scope of things, the Human-Covenant War was contained within the extremities of the Orion Arm of the galaxy.

Blinking away the dots from his eyes, he pressed the microphone.

" _Yes, Director?"_ a rich feminine voice answered.

"Can you check what time Lambert and Jackson wants to have lunch?"

" _Of course, Director."_

There was a brief pause.

" _Two o'clock in the afternoon, at Ellis."_

"Thank you."

" _My pleasure, Director."_

The speakers turned off, leaving Harper alone in the quiet room again, though the silence didn't last long when the speakers rang again.

" _Director, Mister Yazim has a package for you from Doctor Keyes."_

"Send him in."

The doors parted open, allowing a young man in his late twenties, dressed in a conservative suit. In his arms, he cradled a matte black case, no bigger than a medium sized book.

"Growing a beard, Fahil?" Harper asked.

The man instinctively ran a hand of the thick beard.

"Thought I'd try something new, sir."

"Makes you look older," Josiah said with a kind smile.

"That's what I'm going for. Colonel Keyes sent you this package, says that he wants you to make use of it and pass it on to Defence Research."

"Thank you," Josiah said, taking the case.

Yazim gave a courteous nod, and left the office.

Setting the case on the desk, Harper entered in the access codes, and popped the lid open. Inside was a small thumb drive. He turned to his isolated computer, and inserted the drive into the port. The files the device contained were more information about the batarians that was gleaned from an archive. Most of it was about physiology – which Harper had already seen thanks to his teams being able to dissect whatever bodies they got their hands on, but there were other things that Keyes had given him which the Initiative had not yet learned.

But he wasn't interested in those files, the ones he wanted to know, was the encrypted message that was hidden within all that sludge of information. The decryption had to be done by hand, any software installed could alert ONI's army of analysts and AIs ready to pounce at the slightest inconsistency. With a pen and paper, Harper had to comb through the entire data package for the equations and numbers. When he was done, the message was long, but concise.

 _ONI not concerned about batarians._

 _Live Prothean found – not a scientist – cannot help with research. Mentions something about Reapers_

 _Musa and Head are creating a fourth Spartan-IV Program. Adult volunteers. Augmentations required achieving desired outcome impossible. Unstable – will produce strong Spartans if they survive. Musa and Parangosky want new Spartans to be as effective as IIs – request is physiologically impossible._

 _Have sent notes_.

It took the better part of the hour to decode the summary of the augmentation notes, but from what Harper gathered, modified Class I augmentation – which was used widely in FIA Operatives – was the primer for the next stages. The Spartan-IVs needed to be strong enough to wear the armour, which would do the rest of the leg work.

 _Send this to Defence Research; they can fill in the blanks. ONI cannot have monopoly._

That last sentence unnerved Harper. Keyes didn't want ONI having the monopoly on supersoldiers. Aside from the obvious, what could they do with a legion of Spartans? Harper doubted the idea that ONI was planning anything that was politically sinister, that just didn't fit in with their objectives. But then again, Harper did have his concerns about certain people in ONI leadership.

Creating multiple copies of the files, he seeded them into encrypted thumb drives and pocketed them. Satisfied that everything was in order, he grabbed his coat and went to lunch.

He walked through the labyrinth of the building, and was joined by Yazim and an entourage of guards. They led him down into the basement where a number of unmarked cars awaited. Unlike in the movies where the motorcade would be filled entirely with black cars, Harper's convoy was an assortment of cars of various colours.

Large SUVs contained heavily armed response teams while one of the lower riding saloons would transport him to his location.

"Sir," Yazim said, opening the door for him.

"Thanks," Harper nodded, unbuttoning his jacket as he climbed in and sat down on the rich leather grain.

The door closed behind him, and Yazim entered the shotgun seat.

"Cleared to go," the Operative said over the COMs.

The restaurant was always a different one every time the group met. It would always be held in a small function room where the guards would wait outside and monitor the surroundings. To some, these security measures might seem extreme, even borderline paranoid, but it was necessary.

In the small room were Harper, the Director and Deputy Director of the Office of the Directorate of Intelligence, as well as the Attorney General, and the Director of the Federal Investigations Service. As a rule of thumb, food was consumed first before any issues discussed. The topics generally removed people's appetite by causing more stress.

Once the food had been cleared away, that was when the air became tense with dread. They were in a war against the Covenant, and at the same time, they had to make sure ONI didn't get any more emergency powers.

"So, what do we have today?" James Lambert asked.

As the Director of Intelligence, Lambert had the most stressful job out of all of them. His office had to keep track of which Intelligence Organisation was doing what, and that none of them were overstepping their jurisdiction or on each other's toes. Harper could see it in the man's dark eyes, he was tired, and his dark skin held an unhealthy pastiness to them.

"Keyes's has just sent me another package," Harper began, presenting a paper file. "It says that he is working on a procedure which will create adult volunteers into supersoldiers. It's the Fourth Spartan Program."

"Did he send you the full procedure?" Doctor Ryan Jackson, the Deputy Director of Intelligence asked.

Contrary to popular belief, Jackson held Doctorates in Law and Economics. He also had an incredible talent of sniffing out anything that was remotely irregular.

"No," Harper said. "But he sent us formulas, chemical compounds and notes – that should be more than enough for Research to replicate accurately."

"Okay, so why did he send this to us, then?" Attorney General Emma Sahill inquired.

The Director of Federal Investigations Service Kara Yung leaned forward.

"Isn't obvious?" she said. "Keyes doesn't want ONI having the monopoly."

"Exactly," Harper agreed. "He also mentions that under the orders of Parangosky, other cells are attempting to recreate the Spartan-IIs with adults."

"But Keyes said that's impossible," Jackson said, pointing towards the decoded sentence.

Everyone's uneasy expressions didn't go unnoticed for Harper. Despite learning that the Spartan-II Program consisted of conscripted children a few months earlier, it still hadn't really sunk in for most of them. With Keyes being under near constant surveillance, he was rarely able to send out messages to Harper or Lambert.

"Not quite," Harper corrected. "Strength and durability wise, Keyes predicts that the Spartan-IVs will be on par with the Spartan-IIs, pound for pound. But the problem is neurological. He believes that if those cells go forward with their research, they'll end up creating mentally unstable soldiers – provided that they survive."

Lambert cleared his throat and clasped his hands together.

"Well, what are we waiting for then? Let's get some of our own supersoldiers then," he said, staring at Harper. "But tell Keyes to ease up on the packages. People might start asking questions."

…

 **1400 hours (local time), June 7** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Kosovo II, Emrich System's second asteroid belt**

Doctor Craig Hennessey was just one of the many civilians that had been scooped up into evacuation of Millers. He was a kind man, one without political views – well, that's what he told his Insurrectionist "liberators" when they "liberated" the Field Hospital he was working at. Ten UNSC servicemen and women were killed in a matter of seconds; people who could barely stand were just executed where they lay.

But everyone else got a free pass onto their ship, and off to safety in the rocks. Or so they thought. A month after the dust had settled and the Covenant had moved on. He thought that was when the casualty list would thin out, but he was wrong.

At first it was one, then four, then dozens of people waiting in his clinic. Men and women, all military age, sporting wounds caused by long spikes, or incredible small shards of metals propelled at shocking speeds.

He would've thought that it was the Covenant's doing, but everyone kept saying they were gone. It was another faction, another player. _Batarians_ he had overheard. It didn't help that the "freedom" fighters constantly raided his clinic for drugs they could turn into a cocktail to get high off. Day in day out, his limited supply would diminish even further. When it came to the meds, the militia were incredibly talented in finding his hiding spots.

Walking to his "desk" he sat down at the table, a mug of water in his hands and wishing he was back on Earth. But when he signed on for becoming a Doctor, he had to spend his internship abroad. And when it finished, he had opted to stay. He liked the open air, and the flexibility that a mid-colony life offered. In hindsight, he should've returned back home.

There was nothing he could do about it now, just pray that someday, he could go home.

"Doctor Hennessey?" a woman's voice called.

Leaving his small cubicle, Craig returned to the main area of the clinic, and found a middle age couple waiting for him – as well as their security detail of a woman and two men.

"Mister and Missus Waller," he greeted. "You're five minutes early."

"Doctor Hennessey, thank you for meeting us at such a late hour," Mrs Waller thanked.

He never liked those two, so sickeningly sweet. Their words were seductive, capable of enticing some of the greatest minds to join the insurrection. As fond as they were of him, Hennessey knew that they would kill him without hesitation at a moment's notice. After all, he was an Earthborn, and the Earthborn cosmopolitan types were rarely welcomed beyond the mid-colonies.

"Experiencing any troubles, sir?" Craig asked, noticing the man's laboured coughs.

"Headaches," Mr Waller grimaced.

"Of course, I'll get the pain medications right now," Hennessey nodded, walking to the medical cabinet. "Have you been eating as I told you to?"

"Yes."

"No!" Mrs Waller scolded. "He hasn't. Too much of that beef jerky."

"You need a balanced meal of fish, vegetables and red meat," Hennessey said as he filled a cup of water.

"Supplies are scarce. All we have is soy and jerky."

"Well, soy isn't going to be enough," Craig said as he handed the medication to the man.

He took a seat opposite to the couple, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

Mr Waller downed the pills and water in one gulp, and placed the empty plastic cup onto the coffee table – or what stood in place for one.

"How are the children?" Mrs Waller asked.

Hennessey frowned.

"The people here are in bad shape. Vitamin D deficiency is my main concern."

"Just do what you can, Doctor," Mrs Waller said.

"Of course," Craig nodded. "Now, if you could please sit down, so we may begin."

The two sat down in the chairs, with Mr Waller easing himself onto the recliner and his wife by his side. He pulled up his sleeve, as Hennessey pulled on a pair of latex free surgical gloves. Turning on a portable biometric scanner, Hennessey attached a set of wires to key anatomical positions to monitor Waller's vital signs.

Unwrapping a hypodermic needle from a make shift sterility package, Craig withdrew a small dose from a vial.

"This next part is going to hurt," Hennessey warned.

"Wait," the female guard stopped him. "Why aren't you using one of those tube things for IV?"

Craig gave a tired smile.

"Cannulas are in limited supply… and it's not necessary for cancer treatment."

"Tell me about this… cancer," Mr Waller said, more of a demand than a question.

Hennessey inserted the needled into the vein, and slowly pushed down on the pump. The clear liquid flowed into Waller's bloodstream, his face contorted slightly in pain as his hands curled around his wife's to the point of his knuckles turning white.

"Uncontrollable cellular reproduction," Hennessey answered. "The cells in your body replicates so fast that it causes an imbalance."

"I see," Waller said slowly, his eyes drooping down.

"Okay, he should be out for a bit," Craig said calmly to Mrs Waller. "This next part is too painful without…"

"Doctor! Doctor!" a woman wailed.

Her desperate plea for help rang throughout the clinic, easily penetrating the flimsy walls.

"In hear!" he called out as he walked to the doors, pulling off his gloves.

Quickly the guards stood between the door and their leader, out of habit, but they didn't seem concerned. A lack of infrastructure meant that many would be seeking the services of one overworked doctor.

The woman was covered in a shawl that covered the pack on her back; her baby was wrapped around in torn rags.

"Please, you have to him… he… I tried…"

"Shhh, calm down. Let me take a look," Hennessey said softy.

The woman pushed her baby into his arms, desperate for some kind of miracle, tears streaming down her cheeks. As he held the child in his arms, the mother was unwilling to let go, her eyes focused on the patch of cloth that covered her child's face.

 _Foom._

An explosion echoed through the cavernous spaces, vibrating through the metal decks.

"They're here," the mother whispered.

Reaching into the furl that contained the baby, Hennessey felt the grip of a pistol. Quickly, he wrapped his fingers around it, dropped the "baby" and turned around to face Wallers' and their security. Bringing his pistol to bear, he fired thrice into the first guard. The suppressed firearm coughed armour piercing rounds ripped through her body and crashed into the medical cabinets behind her.

The mother strafed right, emptying out half her magazine as she quickly brought down the remaining guards, and killed Mr Waller.

His wife's face paled as she looked back at the Doctor with the gun, rooted to her spot in shock.

Hennessey quickly aimed down his sights and squeezed the trigger thrice in quick succession. A trio of bullets punched into Waller's chest, leaving her slumped in the armchair.

"That went well," the Lawson commented dryly, dropping her colonial accent in favour of her native general Australian accent.

Craig shrugged. "What's the ETA?"

"Batarian main force will be here in thirty, we need to move, Langley," Miranda said, walking towards the dead Wallers.

Searching their pockets, she appropriated access keycards for a private shuttle.

"Bingo," she smirked.

Shoving the card into her pockets, Lawson removed the shawl, revealing the body armour she was wearing underneath, and the backpack. She placed the bag onto the floor, removing another set of body armour and a long range transmitter as Langley quickly grabbed a bag of used needles and a medical carry case.

He took the transmitter and placed it into the case, and then poured out the needles over it before slamming the lid shut.

"Labcoat in the left drawer, bottom right," he said, pointing to the blood covered flimsy doors.

Once they were geared up, Langley was satisfied with their makeshift disguise. He tossed Miranda a wet cloth, letting her wipe the dirt and grime off her angelically sculpted features.

"Ready?" she asked.

Langley nodded.

Leaving the clinic, the quickly made a mad dash for the car that the Wallers used to get to his clinic. The two guards were already dead, killed by Miranda on her way in.

The female operative unlocked the doors and wrenched the driver's door open. Turning on the engines, the car hummed to life. Steering the car out of the parking lot, Miranda slammed the acceleratory, shooting the car down the road.

"Taylor and Niket have just blown the secondary power grid and rigged the _Cantation_ and _Marina_ 's slipspace drives." Miranda said. "They'll meet us at extraction. Sorry I kept you waiting."

"You know, I actually thought you were going to leave me in this cesspit," Langley joked.

Miranda scoffed. "Yeah right… I do that; I'll never hear the end of it from Petrov."

Pulling the cars into the docks, Langley saw the masses of militia scrambling to take up fighting positions.

"These people aren't going to make it," he stated.

"No they aren't… batarians are coming in force… SIGINT did their jobs a little too well."

Pulling the car into a parking spot, the two quickly clambered out and rushed through the corridors. Langley kept the case close on him as he made a dead sprint across the courtyard and into another section of the port. Guards stepped aside as he rushed through with Miranda hot on his heels. No one was going to stand in the way of Doctors.

"Wallers' shuttle should be up on our left, then the fourth corridor on our right."

Langley followed her directions, the heels of their shoes thumping down the halls. Withdrawing his pistol from his belt, he thumbed the safeties off as he rounded another corner.

"Stop!" the militiamen ordered, raising their ageing rifles.

Ducking to the side, Langley threw himself by the cover of supply crates, giving Miranda a clear line of fire. Two shots echoed from her silenced pistol, striking the two guards in the head. Blood, brain and bone splattered over the metal doors behind them.

"Shuttle's just through that door," Miranda said, jogging up to the console. "We've got five minutes before the militia starts to respond."

She swiped the card through the access port and waited for the airlocks to cycle through while Langley watched their six.

"Door's open, let's go."

The doors parted, allowing the two operatives to enter a massive chamber containing the private shuttle. Lawson gave a low whistle as she looked over the sleek design of the vessel.

"Bit banged up… but wow… the Wallers definitely got lucky."

Langley pulled open the access hatch, allowing Miranda to enter first. She swept the corridors of the small corvette, entering the small kitchenette area and lounge before doubling backing to the cockpit.

The flight deck was cramped, and clearly not designed for the comfort of the pilot and his crew, but at least the chairs fit the contours of their body.

"System check complete," Langley said, running his hands along the controls. "Locks disengaged, we're good for launch."

Opening the medical case, Miranda carefully fished through the needles and pulled out the communications gear. Entering the password and selecting her encrypted frequency, she spoke into the mike.

"Lima-Mike-Baker, we're in the clear. Waiting on you," she said coolly.

" _Tango-November-Baker_ ," Taylor responded. _"Keep your head down, we're blowing the locks."_

A dull thump rippled through the cavern, the decompressive force shoved the large steel doors into the blackness of space. Back up doors descended from the roof on a separate rail line, but another explosion billowed from the side, jamming the pistons.

"Punch it," Miranda ordered.

" _Watch for the blinking lights,"_ Taylor warned.

The thrusters flared to life as Langley swung the corvette around, pushing on the yoke; the main engines hurled the corvette into the night.

Langley kept his eyes glued to the viewports, searching for the strobe lights that would mark the rest of his team's positon.

"There!" Miranda pointed. "Ten o'clock."

"I see."

Easing up on the thrusters, the Operative lined up the corvette with the small pod.

"Five hundred metres… two hundred… hold on."

"Alright, going to the airlocks," Miranda said, unclipping her harness. Pushing her legs of the rungs, she propelled her down the ship and glided through the luxurious interior.

A light tap on the controls and the corvette came to a halt a few dozen metres away from the pod.

" _Okay, open up the airlock,"_ Niket said.

Langley kept a constant look out, cycling through the cameras and hoping that the two CMA Destroyers did not pay any attention to a missing corvette. Looking on the sensors, scores of contacts appeared on the rim of the radar screen.

"We might wanna hurry it up," Langley urged. "Batarian contacts are in the asteroid field."

" _We're in,"_ Miranda reported.

"Hold on, this is gonna be rough."

Flooring the engines, Langley tapped into the corvette's petrol reserve, shooting the craft deeper into the asteroid field. He weaved around a gutted batarian vessel, and then dived through two derelict cargo ships.

" _Baron and Zhao are waiting for us just after_ Heinlig _,"_ Miranda added.

Langley searched for the ruined husk of the luxury liner. The ship had crashed onto a large asteroid, its remains splayed out across the rocky surface. He noticed a strobe light winking just on the edge of the dark side of the rock. It flashed twice in quick succession and then two more slowly.

"Got 'em."

Upon swinging around to the dark side of the asteroid, a Northlock Starliner 783 decloaked and revealed itself. The 783s were primarily used by interstellar travel and shipping companies, but its modular and flexible design have attracted the attention of the Intelligence Community, which use the liners as deep space support vehicles for special operation teams.

" _Get your asses on board, barty's are coming in force,"_ Baron said over the communications channel.

"Copy, commencing docking."

A docking tube extended from the ventral side of the 785. Thanks to the interstellar standard of spacecraft design, everything ever produced by the aerospace companies had to comply with the core standards, and that was same fuel, power and docking ports.

Guiding the corvette onto spot, the locks slid in place and the doors opened. Langley unclipped the harness, floating in zero gee. He reached out to the hand rungs and pulled himself along through the corridors and into the passenger compartment, which should be rotating to create artificial gravity.

Upon reaching the doors, Langley glided up through the tube and closed the hatch behind him.

"Lang's clear," Miranda said into he mike, and handed him a pair of mag cleats.

" _Copy that… detaching corvette,"_ Baron responded. _"Welcome to_ Poseidon's Fist _, I am the pilot of Trident Team, and we'll be happy to make your travel more enjoyable. As with all flight regulations, smoking is prohibited at all times. Should you feel sick, please find Langley and he'll be happy to give you a hand… if he was here."_

"Jackass," Lang muttered.

Taylor and Niket immediately broke off and headed to the armoury, while Langley and Miranda headed to the flight deck.

"Nice to see you out in one piece," Zhao said cheerily.

"Blow the charges," Miranda ordered.

"You got it," Zhao complied.

Activating the long range transmitter, he entered in the activation code and pressed the confirmation button.

Fireballs blossomed along the hulls of _Cantation_ and _Marina_ , hurling spark and debris into space. The two destroyers shuddered under the thunderous force, their superstructures twisting and turning, straining under the pressure.

"Slipspace drive destruction confirmed," Zhao reported. "Alright, I think we're good to go."

"Baron, take us home," Miranda said.

"You got it, plotting course."

…

 **1324 hours, July 24** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Olympic Tower, Reach**

" _Winter Contingency has been enacted."_

Keyes looked up from his desk and gazed out the windows. Hundreds of UNSC aircrafts were taking to the skies. The red and blue flashes of the New Alexandria Police Department flooded the streets below. This was the chaos before the Covenant's assault. Men and women would run frantically to their cars, speeding through traffic to get to their families.

Security Personnel began to move through the office hallways, making their way to the private section that was his office.

"Sir, we need to go," Agent Jameson Locke urged, as he pushed the glass doors open. "Stanforth's orders."

Charles swore silently, hesitant to leave. His mother and Javik were still at CASTLE Base.

"If you die here sir, so does your work," Jameson said, pulling Keyes away from his desk.

The Lieutenant Colonel quickly checked the pistol in his thigh holster, and pulled on an armoured vest, forgoing his coat. Adjusting his AR glasses, he fell into step with the ONI Special Activities Division Team as they guided him through the areas of cubicles and workstations.

ONI personnel were quickly moving from station to station, purging all work data or sending it to an offsite facility before being herded out by security.

Entering the lifts, Keyes opened up his TACPAD and interfaced into the secure channels.

"Holton, you there?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

" _Receiving,"_ he answered his voice dry and humourless.

"Where are you?"

" _We're on lockdown here, prepping for evac."_

"I need a favour."

" _Go on."_

"Make sure the Subject in Room-Four-Two-A, gets out okay."

" _That's the biology section."_

"Do me a favour; get out of physics and go. I'll send you the priority codes."

" _Fine… you owe me lunch."_

The link was then terminated.

Keyes rolled his eyes, Alistair did know when to crack jokes at the most inappropriate moments. Switching channels, he entered in a new contact.

" _Charles?"_ an elderly woman answered.

"Mum, where are you?"

" _Charles?_ _I'm so sorry. We've been cut off. Look, don't worry about me or your father. Just focus on getting yourself back to Earth."_

Keyes clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on a nearby handle.

"Sword is still green."

" _No, Charles… the base is on full lockdown, no one gets in or out. Don't worry about me… just get home safely."_

"Alright… I'll see you soon."

" _Bye, Charles,"_ Halsey said, barely above a whisper.

Keyes cleared his throat and turned off his COMs.

The rest of the elevator trip down remained quiet, Charles kept his gaze firmly on the console, watching the numbers tick by. Coming to a rest, the doors parted open, allowing the team to usher the Lieutenant Colonel out.

Security was everywhere, manning checkpoints and standing at evacuation intersections in the underground foyer. Everything was so loud, and yet so quiet at the same time. Many here knew how many worlds had burned before Reach, Keyes had the feeling that a lot of them believed they were never going to see their families again.

"Sir, this way," Locke said, leading him to a vactrain carriage.

Stepping through the airlock, Keyes secured himself in one of the seats and breathed heavily as he tried to hide his shaking hand. Forcing his stiff fingers to work, he called his mother again. But there was no connection on the secure channels.

"Dammit," he murmured.

The sound of the hissing locks registered in his ear, followed by the sensation of acceleration pushing against his whole body. Non electrical glow lights streaked by as the carriage shot through the vacuum tube.

Charles kept himself busy by working on his device, looking at the in combat repots flooding the network. Reach was already lost; anyone who was left was just delaying the inevitable.

…

 **September 19** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6 "The Hive"  
Sydney, Australia**

The jump back to Earth was spent in virtual isolation, without any way of knowing how the fight on Reach was developing. The wait had been killing him, until a lone Prowler made it back with the news. Several days later, civilian shuttles and UNSC escorts arrived, but the numbers of those who survived were tragically low.

Charles didn't know if his mother had made it out alive, or if his father was still in the fight. The reports were meagre, not enough to form a coherent image. CASTLE was up for grabs, but a large portion destroyed, and Sword Base overrun. Most of the UNSC garrison had been wiped out, but at least the _Pillar of Autumn_ was last seen making a slipspace jump.

Lieutenant Wagner reported that Keyes's father had made it off Reach, but whether he was alive or not was still an open question.

The elevator came to a halt at its final destination. The doors parted open, revealing a sparsely decorated foyer, which primarily relied on a holo-landscape display of the Sydney Harbour, segmented metal panels and indirect lighting to give it some kind of flare.

Walking along the carpet, Charles stopped by the front desk, manned by three receptionists. Bit overkill, but he knew that the two men and women were more than capable with a firearm.

"The Committee is ready to see you, Colonel," the woman said.

"Thank you."

Passing through the dual doors flanked by armed MPs, Keyes entered the Committee chambers. It was dark, barely lit by dull azure blue lights illuminating the UNSC Insignia on the floor.

"Colonel Keyes," Hood greeted. "Thank you for coming."

"Sir."

There were a surprising number of empty chairs, most of it from ONI. Section II Deputy Head was vacant, and so were both Section III chairs.

"We're here to discuss your promotion."

Charles's eyes flickered over to the empty chairs.

"A unanimous decision has been made, that you will be the Acting Head of Military Intelligence Section III. Congratulations Brigadier General."

The Committee gave him a curt nod, but no applause. No one was really in the mood for celebration anyway.

"Thank you sir, but… what about Colonel Ackerson?"

"Colonel Ackerson has been deployed… you're next in line. Please, take your seat," Hood gestured.

Charles decided to drop the subject of why he was now the Acting Head. Walking around the curved table, he pulled out the chair and eased himself into the leather cushions. He felt the servos kick in as they automatically shifted to the contours of his body. Looking to his right, Admiral Margaret Parangosky, the CINCONI gave him another light nod and returned her attention back to Hood.

"Now, Keyes, you said you wanted to present something about a… Prothean?"

Charleston nodded, and placed a small device onto the table, interfacing it with the room's monitors.

"We discovered this Prothean on Eden Prime, one of our Outer Colonies," he began. "His name is Javik, a military commander."

A humanoid appeared on the monitors and projectors. He was clad in armour reminiscent of Feudal Japan, with his three-digit hands, and two-digit feet left exposed.

"What happened to his species?" asked Major General Nicholas Strauss, the liaison from the Army.

A crease formed in Charles's forehead.

"Destroyed… by an entity known as the Reapers, some fifty thousand years ago."

Another image appeared on the central holoprojector. It appeared to be a purple mechanised cuttlefish.

"His species has the ability to read their environment through organic residue; a skill that made them prime hunters. They quickly evolved and became space faring."

"Any relations to the Forerunner?"

Charles shook his head.

"No. Apparently they used these Mass Effect Relays, much like the one we found near Elysium. There could be more, but they are hard to detect. Anyway, the Protheans used this network to expand their influence."

"Who built the Relays?" Strauss asked.

"The Protheans thought it was their predecessors, but it turns out it was built by the Reapers."

"And they are?"

"Sentient ships that harvest advance species every fifty thousand years," Keyes said gravely. "Our analysts believe that the Relays are a means for the Reapers to influence development, something that Javik confirms."

A galactic map appeared on screen, with red lines running across the stars like veins.

"These are known Relay lanes," said Keyes. "Virtually instantaneous travel across the entire galaxy. However, we should be having a Relay in Sol if we are to go by the pattern of dispersion."

"You're saying someone is interfering with the network," said Strauss.

Charles nodded.

"Could be the Reapers, could've been the Forerunners. We don't know."

"Know or not is irrelevant at the moment," Hood interrupted, raising his hand. "Time is not our friend here. If Javik has anything useful, use it. If not, shelve it for later."

Charles nodded. "Yes sir."

…

 _ **Email Archive**_

 _ **January 15**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2551**_

 _ **From:**_ _Charleston R.E. Keyes  
_ _ **To:**_ _Musa-096_

 _ **Subject:**_ _Spartan-IV Program_

 _Musa,_

 _What you and Parangosky are requesting cannot be done. My team and I have run through hundreds of simulations, each concluding that the augmentations will result in death or serious injury of any adult candidates._

 _As requested, I've attached the procedures and chemical compounds to this email._

 _I have also provided another set of augmentations which will guarantee 100% effectiveness for adult candidates; however, they will not reach your desired results._

 _Regards,_

 _Doctor Charleston R.E. Keyes  
Thetis Cell_

…

 **Author's notes**

I should also let you know that Josiah Harper is based off a combination of the Illusive Man (Jack Harper) and President Josiah Bartlett from _The West Wing_ – both characters played by Martin Sheen.

 **Afterword**

Well, there we are, the first chapter of _Shadow Contingency_ has landed. Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know.


	2. Finish the Fight

**Foreword**

Just so we're all on the same page, the appearance of the batarians will be explained in the later chapters. Also, grammar, so that you're all aware, I'm using the conventions of the King's English (i.e. U.K. English). With that being said, it would be greatly appreciated if you could point out to me where those grammatical errors are. Despite the number of times I read through these chapters, it's quite easy to overlook certain things for the human mind reads the word as a whole and not by letters individually.

My thanks to Carleen for proofreading this chapter.

…

 **Finish the Fight**

…

" _I was on the UNSC_ Adanna _. We were responding to a distress call in Firenze… near Vinezia. Turns out it was a trap by the Innies, they wanted our slipspace drive because the Spooks fried all of theirs before leaving. They had planted a mole on our ship, the FNG killed Yasim, and that made me the acting CO. I tried to get us out, but Tana had blown up engineering and disabled the core. But the idiot was so cocky he forgot that I filed a report to Command before the jump. Probably what saved our asses… we never got the memo about Firenze. Some desk jockey picked up the snag and got Hackett on the horn. Hackett then contacted Anderson for a favour… and that's how I met them."_  
 **-CMDR Aubrie Jane Shepard** to **CMDR Miranda Keyes**

…

 **December 11** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Aboard UNSC **_**Halberd**_ **-class destroyer** _ **Normandy**_ **  
Voi, Africa  
Earth**

Commander Aubrie Shepard was one of the few surviving veteran naval officers left in the war, and her ship had the scars to show it all. She had served multiple tours under the command of several famous officers such as Vice Admiral David Anderson, who was the head of the Naval Special Warfare Command, and the legendary Admiral Steven Hackett.

Leaning back into her chair, Aubrie let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. She was tired, they all were. One way or another, the war was going to end. Thirty years of all-out warfare was taking its toll on both sides. Despite the Covenant's near endless supply of troops and resources, they had to be feeling the strain.

" _Ready for this Aubrie?"_ Miranda Keyes's voice whispered through an encrypted channel.

"Yeah, I guess," Shepard replied.

" _Good luck… see you on the other side."_

"You too," Aubrie breathed. "Joker, take us out."

"Copy that ma'am. Bringing her to bear. Thrusters at cruise speed."

Shepard felt the g-forces as the ship surged forward over the African plains. Her orders were simple, do whatever it takes to kill the Prophet of Truth. Following the Separatist Ships, the portal above Earth began to fill out the viewports.

"Here we go," the Commander breathed.

The _Normandy_ 's prow touched the portal, wispy tendrils dancing along her length as she entered space that existed beyond the void. Blue skies were replaced by an infinite blackness, dotted with the silvery silhouettes of the Separatist fleet.

Out of habit, Aubrie scrolled through the security feeds. The Marines were armed and ready to go, crewmen were strapped to their seats and everything that wasn't bolted down was stored away. No one knew how long this jump would take, but Aubrie suspected it would be a short one.

"Coming out of slipspace in ten seconds," Jeff announced. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

The black void faded and gave way to a backdrop of stars, and a breathtaking view below.

 _The Ark…_

The superstructure was shaped like a flower with its eight curved arms covered in a surface much like Earth. At the core, was a planet stripped of its resources, and high above it was a small star.

"Look at the size of that," Joker whispered.

"Easily bigger than Earth," Pressly added.

"Hey… above… that… isn't that our Galaxy?"

From her seat, Aubrie looked up the viewport and felt a soft chill ripple through her body. In all its splendour was the Milky Way.

"Commander," Carlton interrupted, his avatar appearing on the nearby pedestal.

Shepard turned her attention to the blue and silver man dressed in Naval Officer Battle Dress Uniform. He had made that change recently, last month his avatar was wearing the standard service dress outfitted with light armour.

"Yes?"

"Ship Master Rtas 'Vadum has recommended that you and Commander Keyes hold position before deploying on the Ark."

"Tell him I will," Shepard ordered.

"Yes, ma'am."

Shepard opened up an encrypted channel and contacted _Forward Unto Dawn_.

"Game plan?" she asked.

" _Truth's not taking part in the attack,"_ Keyes answered. _"He must've gone to ground."_

"Tell them to laze targets for us," Shepard suggested.

" _Copy. And heads up… here come the brutes."_

Aubrie remained in her seat and with a calm expression. Tensions were high as the _Normandy_ dropped away from the Separatist formations. Plasma torpedoes glided through the blackness as pulse lasers stabbed through the void. The battle between the two Covenant Fleets was like a raging fireworks display with neon lights. It was beautiful to the unknowing mind, but all that savage energy being used as a weapon was simply… frightening.

The Commander gripped the edge of her seat as she tried to keep her breathing calm. Scores of Loyalist Seraph fighters had broken through the Separatist lines, spewing plasma onto the _Normandy_ 's hull. Ablative armour boiled away as the rounds slammed into the plates. Sensors across the ships projected integrity readings, dropping at an alarming rate.

"Deploy countermeasures," Shepard ordered.

"Copy that ma'am," Ensign Kathy Richwell complied.

From small ejection ports, flares were shot out into the darkness, illuminating the sea of blackness with a brilliant white light. Intel said that the Covenant species were sensitive to brightness, which had allowed UNSC Forces to use flashbangs to significant effect.

Knowing the horrific damages the flares could cause to their crafts, the Seraph pilots pulled away from the orbs of burning metal. The differences in approach vectors left the fighters vulnerable to the point defence guns.

Under the guidance of the Naval Officers, the turret computers began to launch a firestorm of high explosive shells into the Seraph formations. The devastating 50mm rounds tore the crafts apart in a brilliant ball of flame.

Dozens of Seraphs began to fly listlessly, creating a protective barrier against other fighters. But despite the aggressiveness of Brutes, some of their own possessed a higher-than-average intelligence. Fighters broke off from strafing runs and fired plasma charges into the field of destroyed crafts, punching a hole through the barrier. Point Defence Crews were quick to prioritize targets, bringing the guns to bear on the aircraft that broke through.

Aubrie kept her eyes firmly on the tactical display, setting up fields of fire for her gunners.

" _The Master Chief is on the ground,"_ Keyes radioed.

"Lieutenant Gladstone, fire concentration on the ship to our one o'clock! Charge up our main gun."

"Yes, ma'am."

Trebuchet MAC guns swivelled in their turrets and zeroed in on the lightly armoured ship. Half dozen salvos of tungsten ferric round streaked out into the blackness of space and smashed against the enemy ship. Shields flared as the absorbed the impact before being completely drained away.

"Joker, brings us to bear," Aubrie ordered. "Give us a depression of fifteen degrees. I want the gun aimed at the gut."

"Aye, ma'am."

The ship's thrusters flared, pushing the ship into position.

"Fire main gun!"

"Firing!"

The _Normandy_ hummed and groaned as a trio of Depleted Uranium rounds shot through the capacitors at terrifying speeds. The impact was virtually instantaneous given the firing distance. The corvette's hull caved in, warped by the intense thermodynamic release of the round. The atmosphere instantly left the ship through the gaping hole, spinning her on her lateral axis.

A small smile graced Aubrie's lips.

 _Another kill_.

"Joker, get us behind the _Shadow of Intent_ ," Shepard ordered, hoping that the core formation of the Sangheili ships would cover them.

"Aye, aye ma'am."

 _Normandy_ 's engines flared to life. Her power core thrumming as she glided through the blackness above the station. Countless Seraph fighters deviated from their original course and gave chase. But there hopes of glory was cut short as the rear point-defence guns spurned into actions, spewing high-explosive rounds at an impressive rate.

Squadrons of enemy fighters were shredded in the ship's wake, some only able to deploy their plasma torpedoes. But most damages were superficial, and without a craft to control the energy weapons, the plasma dissipated.

The UNSC destroyer took a safe position behind the heavy capital ships while maintaining an over watch on the Master Chief's position.

…

John stood on the sandy plateau with a sniper rifle in hand, waiting for reinforcements. Dozens of wrecked Covenant vehicles, Brutes, Grunts, and Jackals lay dead on the field, their blood soaking into the white amber plains.

"Commander, you're cleared," the Master Chief broadcasted.

" _Copy, coming in,"_ said Miranda.

The Frigate appeared as a dot in the sky, but soon quickened in size as she came low. Her thrusters flared to life as they slowed her down, kicking up dirt and debris. Once she was still, her main ramp descended, revealing a Grizzly Tank for him to use.

"Armoured was kind enough to lend a Grizzly," Sergeant Stacker gestured. "Hit 'em where it hurts, Chief."

Jogging lightly over to the heavily armed battle tank, the Spartan opened the hatch and climbed into the control seat. Linking his neural interface to the vehicle, he felt his senses tingle as information flowed. Additional Marines embarked on their Infantry Fighting Vehicles, and Warthogs while the ODST manned the other stations inside the tank.

343 Guilty Spark hovered around the vehicle, steadily sweeping the area as if he was searching the environment for something.

" _Roll out Chief, we've got you covered,"_ Johnson channelled from his Pelican.

The engines roared to life, spurning the heavy tank across the field.

"Ghosts inbound!" an ODST warned.

John spun the main gun to bear and squeezed the trigger. The tank rocked as a thunderous roar rippled across the canyon. Hypervelocity shells drilled into the Ghosts and detonated, ripping the light vehicles asunder.

"Woo!" a Helljumper cheered.

The remote control MG turret spooled to life, spewing out .50 Cal to devastating effect. Grunts ran from cover, arms flailing as the AP rounds punched straight through the rocks.

"Run ya Covie Bastards."

"Whoa, look at this," said a Lieutenant, manning the battlenet. "Shit. Scarab!"

" _Hang on, I got you covered,"_ Shepard chimed. _"Gladstone, I want firing solutions on that Scarab."_

Highlighted feeds appeared on John's HUD, a pulsating blue line marking the firing trajectory, ending somewhere on the other side of the plateau.

" _Keep your heads down, guns hot."_

A fiery streak struck from the skies, slamming into the Scarab. Dust and sand kicked up into the air, tossed in the wake of the shockwave. Watching from the feed, John could see nothing but a cloud obscuring the Scarab, but no doubt it was destroyed, its energy signature flat-lining.

"Target down, thanks for the assist," John said.

" _Pleasure."_

"All units, on me."

Steering the Grizzly into another canyon, John kept his finger resting on the fire controls as he scanned the fields of destroyed Wraiths. It was nice having Orbital Support on his side this time, but it was no reason to be slack. Anything that looked remotely intact, John sent an AP round through it, just in case.

" _Reclaimer, I detect no presence in those husks, your caution is unnecessary,"_ 343 said.

"Never hurts to be careful," the Chief answered in his baritone voice.

" _Heads up Chief,"_ Johnson's voice crackled over the COMs. _"Pelicans inbound with the Arbiter."_

Bringing the tank to a halt outside the doors of an installation, John clambered out of his seat and stood on top of the hull. He watched the Pelicans swoop in low and fast, throwing up sand in their wake. The drop ships engaged their thrusters and presented the ramp to the group, allowing a fresh team of ODSTs and the Arbiter to disembark.

The massive Elite's mandibles twitched as he looked at the charred remains of the Loyalists.

"Well done, Spartan," he said.

John gave a curt nod.

"So… I take it you're done. Mind if I take over?" Stacker asked.

"All yours," the Chief gestured to the hatch.

The Sergeant gave grinned in delight as he climbed onto the tank and entered the hull.

"Thanks," he said.

" _Alright, let's get this show on the road,"_ Johnson broadcasted.

Spark moved up the doors, interfacing with the controls. A slow rumble echoed through the area as the massive doors parted open.

"This way," the Monitor proclaimed.

…

John slipped through the doors, MA5C at the ready. He kept in line with the Monitor, following the floating orb as he led the way. Peering around the corner, John held up a closed fist, before gesturing a sweeping motion with an open palm.

"Contacts in the next room, two Brutes, three Jacks and sleeping grunts," he whispered into the COMs. "Dubbo, toss frags, wait for the boom, then flash."

The Helljumpers popped the pins on their grenades and rolled the devices along the ground. Unaware of the impending hail of shrapnel and heat, the Grunts remained oblivious in their sleep. John kept his back against the wall and readied his weapon, counting the seconds ticking by.

 _Whump_.

The shockwave tore through the air, hurling tungsten ball bearings at flesh and bone. Two flashbangs were thrown in amongst the confusion, blinding the Covenant soldiers. Unlike the humans, the Covenant races had an increased sensitivity to light, making them all the more susceptible to flashbangs.

John was the first to enter; he ignored the targets at the centre of the blood smeared room and quickly turned to his left. A dazed Brute was shielding his eyes, growling as he tried to fight off the disorientation. The Spartan squeezed the trigger in quick succession, reducing the Jiralhanae's head to a pulpy mass.

He let the body drop as he strafed to the corner and swept the room for any remaining targets: None. The ODSTs had performed a perfect textbook room clearance; no casualties.

"Anyone find it weird that these guys were sleeping… while we were tearing shit up?" Dubbo asked.

"Don't question it, man. Easy kills… don't question it," another ODST said.

Spark led the team through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, but as teams stopped checking in with the Covenant command, the remaining groups readied themselves against the intrusion.

"Chamber high-ex," the Spartan whispered.

Chambering a grenade into his launcher, John quickly fired into the room and was rewarded with a dull thud.

"Thump 'em!" he barked.

The ODSTs quickly fired their grenade launchers into the room in quick succession, creating an unforgiving firestorm, fuelled by methane packs.

Once again, the Spartan was the first through the door. He checked his vector.

 _Clear. Target centre_ , he droned inwardly.

Spinning on his axis, he squeezed the trigger, bringing down a Jackal.

"We're clear," Dubbo called out.

Floating above the carnage, Spark led the team into the final room, the Cartographer. This brought back some unpleasant memories, but John stuffed those doubts aside. He panned his eyes across the expansive observation platform, looking out over a curved waterfall.

The Helljumpers filed in and fanned out, securing the area as the Spartan walked up to the terminal.

Placing his hand on the controls, the Cartographer winked to life. An image of the Milky Way appeared, slowly rotating.

"That's… our galaxy," the Chief said. "We're beyond the outer rim."

The Spartan still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the idea that they were in intergalactic space, the first time he saw the Milky Way.

Spark turned to face him.

"Two to the eighteenth light years from the galactic centre, to be precise," the Monitor said.

The hologram morphed into the installation.

"What is this place?" John asked.

"The Ark," Spark answered as a matter fact.

" _This_ is the Ark?" the Chief asked, readjusting the grip on his rifle.

"I always assumed it was part of a _Shield_ installation, but it seems I was mistaken."

"That's a first," John muttered sarcastically.

"Not at all," Spark justified. "While I had a complete understanding of Installation Zero-Four, my makers wisely limited my knowledge of all strategic facilities. Compartmentalization, in case I was ever captured by the Flood."

The Spartan looked at the map.

"Can you tell me where we are, exactly?"

"Here!"

The map morphed, zooming in on a highlighted area near the centre of the installation.

"And Truth?"

"Near one of the Ark's superluminal communication arrays, I'm afraid. Unfortunate; the Meddler has triggered a barrier; a defensive perimeter around the Ark's core."

Out of the corner of his eye, John could see two Covenant Banshees and a Phantom on approach. The Arbiter shifted uneasily, giving him a concerned glance.

"The barrier will be difficult to disable... how odd that my makers would place such a comprehensive defense around a single…" the Monitor paused. "Oh, my."

"What is it?"

Before Spark could answer, the Loyalist flight readjusted for an attack vector.

"Phantom!" Vadam roared.

The enemy attack ships unleashed a torrent of plasma, boiling the metal surfaces away. ODSTs quickly ducked and readied their weapons.

"Spark! Move!" John barked.

"We must get past the barrier! Or the Meddler will destroy it all!"

Spark turned around and headed back into the direction from where they came from.

" _Chief,"_ Johnson's voice crackled. _"You've got a whole mess of hostile air inbound on your position! Get back inside. We'll take 'em out."_

" _Follow the Oracle, Spartan!"_ Vadam said.

With the Banshee piloted by an inexperienced and poorly trained Brute, the Elite quickly latched onto the attack craft and ripped the alien out of the controls. The Brute Minor thrashed as he fell into the waters below, leaving the craft for the Arbiter.

The assault team double backed through the entrance and sprinted through the labyrinth once more, hot on Spark's heels.

"Protocol dictates action," the Monitor said to himself. "The Installation was my responsibility if my suspicions are correct… no! I must not jump to conclusions."

Rounding a corner, John spotted another Chieftain.

"The Pack will feast on you!" he roared, before backing out of the room.

"Stalkers," a female Marine hissed.

"Frag out!" John ordered.

Pulling a grenade from his belt, he tossed it into the centre of the room, before throwing himself behind cover. The resulting ball of smoke and shrapnel washed over the Brutes, overloading their stealth modules.

"Take them down!"

Springing from cover, the assault team unleashed a torrent of fire. AP rounds punched through the Brutes' rib cage, splintering bone and spraying blood all over the grey floors.

" _Hang tight, Chief. We're on our way,"_ Johnson's voice crackled over the COMs.

Moving outside, the Chief saw the Brute Chieftain rally his clan. Their fangs flashed as their weapons readied. The Spartan quickly ordered the team to fan out, and open fire.

"Fight me, I'm here!" the Chieftain declared.

The ODSTs quickly dispatched the Brute Minors before turning their attention to the Chieftain.

John loaded another grenade into his launcher and fired the projectile. Streaming through the air, the explosive warhead detonated on the upper chest area, overloading the shields and warping the armoured plates.

Dubbo moved up to the Chief's right and knelt behind a barrier. His battle rifle echoed in short bursts as he hammered the Chieftain with SAPHE rounds. Pockets of explosions rippled across the dense armour plate and within the Brute's thick muscle.

The Chieftain charged, ploughing through the horde of fire until he was in range of the Spartan. The Marines ceased fire, out of fear of hitting the Chief.

"Cover the Chief!" a Lieutenant barked, focusing fire against inbound Brute packs.

John quickly flipped over the Brute, narrowly dodging the mass of muscle and metal. Landing on the deck, he quickly spun around and emptied the rest of his mag into the creature's back. A grim smile made its way across his face as he saw a trickle of blood spill onto the metal surface.

The Chieftain roared in rage, turning around for another charge, but John was too close to move anywhere out of reach. He drew his sidearm, but the Chieftain was undeniably fast. Thickly muscled hands wrapped around the Chief's throat, slamming him against the support pillars.

The Spartan had to act fast, or else he'd be no more than a sinking stone in the waters below. Bringing his pistol to bear, he aimed for the head, but the Chieftain intercepted it, encasing the Chief's right hand. John fought to stay conscious as black dots swarmed his vision. His left hand dug into the Brute's arm, stopping the massive alien from crushing his windpipe.

Squeezing the trigger in quick succession, the Brute's hand exploded in a fountain of blood and bone. The Chief felt his opponent's strength slacken. He emptied the rest of the clip into the helmet. Four rounds shattered the cheek plate, and the final round drilled its way into the bone.

Howling in pain, the Chieftain dropped John, giving the Spartan a slight reprieve, but John knew the dangers of pausing. Springing forward, he torpedoed into the Brute's torso, knocking them back a few metres. Doubling back, the Spartan reached his combat knife. He feinted to his right as the Chieftain threw a wild punch, before shifting into a low stance for another charge.

Without missing a beat, John rammed the blade into the bloodied cheek. The Brute staggered back, a guttural pained roar gurgling out of his shredded lips. The Chief kept his grip firmly on the blade and twisted it; he could see the flash of metal within the Brute's mouth as he wrenched the knife upward and out.

He spun around the Brute, holding tightly onto the breastplate. John readjusted his stance on the alien and plunged the metal into the exposed flesh of the neck. He felt the jarring stop of bone blocking his blade. Freezing instantly, the Chieftain stopped flailing and fell to the floor, lifeless.

Pulling the blade away, John gave it a shake, flicking the red-blue blood onto the grey deck, before sheathing it away.

"Damn Chief," Dubbo's whistled, handing him back his assault rifle.

"Thanks."

A soft hiss reached his ears.

"Brute Jumpers, get to cov…"

A spiker round struck a Marine centre mass, killing him instantly.

"Take cover!" John barked. "Don't let them box you in!"

Brutes loved to come in close for melee; it was in their nature to do so. Knowing that, John quickly sprinted into the centre of the platform, spikes striking his shields and the ground around him. Hands outstretched, he scooped up the Gravity Hammer and baited the Brutes.

Seeing that he held their prized weapon, the Jumpers quickly focused their attention on him, swooping in low for a melee kill. Swinging the Hammer, the metal mass struck a knee, instantly shattering the bone and flinging the Brute off into the distance. The massive alien crashed and skidded on the metal planes with a sickeningly wet thud.

Another Brute flanked the Marines, coming in low. The soldiers fired frantically but to no avail, the Ape-like creature swung. John heard the piercing scream of a woman as the blades slashed through her armour.

"Keating's down!" A Corporal cried.

Bringing his pistol to bear, John fired a trio of bullets at the Brute's head. The rounds pinged off the shield, but that was enough to get his attention. The Spartan readied the Hammer, taunting the alien.

Another strike and another foe turned into a headless ragdoll, tossed on the ground. With everything quiet once more, the Spartan turned to survey the area.

One of the Lieutenants shouted to make himself heard, "Headcount!"

"Keating's alive but fucked up. Samberg is dead, and Thistles is hit in the arm."

The medics performed a quick patch up before helping the wounded up.

" _ETA: damn quick!"_ Johnson barked. _"Standby for pickup!"_

A Pelican dropped in low, descending its rear ramp while the others circled overhead. John jogged lightly onto the ramp when a swarm of contacts appeared on his sensors.

"Commander!" the Spartan barked.

Hundreds of Sentinels entered his sights, rising up from the levels below.

 _"Johnson! Look sharp!"_ Keyes warned.

"I got it!" Johnson said, spooling up the rear guns as the pilot brought the drop ship around.

 _"No, don't shoot! They mean us no harm! Those units have a priority task,"_ Spark cried.

The Sentinels realigned their trajectories, turning away from the platform and shooting off into the distance.

"Oh, yeah? And what might that be?" Johnson growled, puffing on his cigar.

 _"I really can't say... not for sure. But if you allow me to find a terminal closer to the Core-"_

 _"No, Oracle,"_ the Arbiter interrupted. _"We must keep the Prophet of Truth firmly in our sights."_

 _"But what about your construct?"_ Spark argued." _Her solution to the Flood? With more data, I-"_

 _"The Arbiter's right."_ Miranda agreed. _"We have priorities too. Until we kill Truth, stop the Rings from firing… nothing else matters."_

With the Arbiter circling behind the four Pelicans, the allied forces followed Sentinels. John kept an eye on his battlenet feed. Commander Keyes was in a Pelican to his left. He frowned inwardly, he preferred it if she stayed on her ship, safe and away from the battle.

…

 **1430 hours, December 11** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Aboard the UNSC** _ **Normandy  
**_ **Holding above Beach Head Point Alpha  
The Ark, Extragalactic Space**

"Either the craziest or the ballsiest officer in the fleet," Shepard muttered to herself.

Miranda Keyes had decided to join the fight on the ground by taking a Pelican to act as an over watch. Aubrie sincerely hoped that Miranda brought a fire team with her, but knowing her, Shepard knew that Keyes would've devoted everything to the fight.

"Mira, you've got anyone flying with you?" Shepard asked on a private channel.

" _Negative… all or nothing."_

Aubrie frowned as a sigh escaped her lips.

"Joker, bring us in."

"Yes, Commander."

The _Normandy_ descended through the blue skies and broke through the cloud cover. The UNSC destroyer came to a halt, circling above the three generators. On the displays, Shepard could see the blue tags of UNSC troops pushing through the lines while the green tags of Separatists swarming the central generator.

" _Tower One down,"_ the Master Chief broadcasted.

" _Good work, Chief!"_ Miranda smiled. _"That's one."_

From the viewports, Shepard could see smoke and plasma flames spew from the structure as it crumbled to the ground. Flecks of debris rained down on the sand, and soon Tower 2 was eliminated.

" _That's two. It's all up to Johnson's team now."_

Nothing, the Tower remained, taunting them.

 _"Johnson, come in. Over."_

 _"Brute reinforcements, ma'am!"_ the Sergeant grunted. Gun chatter swarmed the audio. _"We're pinned down!"_

 _"I'm on my way!"_ Keyes said without hesitation.

"Second wave is on standby, Sergeant," Shepard said.

 _"Negative! Fire's too heavy!"_ Johnson argued. _"Everyone fall back! Now!_ "

The link then went dead, cut off by static.

 _"Sergeant Major! Johnson! Can you hear me?!"_

No response.

" _Chief, you need to link up with the Arbiter and proceed directly to the Third Tower. Make your way back to the beach."_

"I'll send in Captain Alenko," Shepard added.

In the relative safety of her ship, Aubrie watched the UNSC pings fade out one by one.

"Sergeant Johnson's tags are still active ma'am, they're taking him somewhere."

Aubrie swore under her breath as she opened up the COM channels.

"Be advised, they've captured Johnson."

" _Dammit, they're going to use him to activate the Rings,"_ Miranda said.

"Roger that. _Normandy_ is going to…"

More contacts appeared on radar.

"Aw hell. Heads up everyone, enemy fast movers coming in from the north. Guns, open up. Carlton patch me through to Delta Squad," Shepard ordered.

"Done."

A green light winked above her microphone.

"Captain Tony, Delta Squad is to break off from the attack and reinforce the Chief."

" _Copy that, ma'am."_

…

 **1537 hours, December 11** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Aboard UNSC **_**Halberd**_ **-class destroyer** _ **Normandy**_ **  
Holding above The Citadel  
The Ark, Extragalactic Space**

With the defensive towers out of the way, a detachment of Sangheili ships had pushed through to the facility, clearing a path for the ground assault team.

"Joker, bring us over the Citadel, keep us high enough to avoid enemy AAs."

"Copy that ma'am."

"Weapons crew, you are cleared to engage all non-friendlies."

"Ma'am, we've got contact coming out of slipspace," an Ensign warned.

A massive portal morphed into existence, the blackened sphere warped the light around it, giving it an eerie violet and cobalt glow. Leaving the darkness emerged a giant mushroom shaped station, damaged and decrepit.

"HighCharity _… by the gods_ ," Shipmaster R'tas breathed.

"Joker, get us out of here! Brace for impact!" Shepard cried.

Spiraling out of control, the station howled overhead, spewing debris into every direction.

The point defence guns roared into life, spewing high explosive rounds at the shower of rock and flesh. _Normandy_ 's engines flared, pushing her out of the kill zone. But it was too little too late; the CIWS system was overwhelmed at the number of contacts. Debris slammed into the _Shadow of Intent_ , piercing a starboard section. Flames and sparks spewed out of the wound as the Separatist ship wavered and dipped towards the ground.

Another piece of debris smashed into the _Normandy_ 's port engines, warping the metal plates and shaking the ship asunder. Aubrie gripped her chair as Joker fought to maintain control of the vessel.

 _Whump..._

Shepard could hear the metal screeching and groan as the destroyer shook as if it was going into shock. From the massive viewports, she watched another chunk pierce the forward hull, right before the blast shields slammed shut.

Alarms began to blare throughout all the ship, crewman ran from console to console, attempting to regain control.

"Carlton, status!" Shepard ordered.

"I'm losing control of the engines. All port side reactor cores are offline, and multiple breaches in the hull, Flood contact have been detected on multiple decks."

Aubrie swore under her breath. Tapping her fingers on her command console, she brought up the ship's intercom.

" _Everyone, this is Shepard. We are abandoning the_ Normandy _. Weapons crew, prime the thermobaric."_

Unlatching her seatbelt, she moved up to the central display and prepared a venting timer.

"Carlton, seal off all the bulkheads and maintenance shafts, do whatever you can to delay the Flood."

"Done."

The central display projected a 3D model of the _Normandy_. Red stripes quickly spread throughout the ship, quickly overtaking dozens of blue signatures.

"God have mercy on me," Aubrie whispered, biting her upper lip as she winced.

Entering in the commands, blast doors descended, slamming shut. Crimson dots swarmed across the display, rapidly overwhelming the trapped blue dots. One by one, friendly tags went offline.

"Arm the nukes, authorisation code: lambda-five-oh-three-three-bravo," Shepard ordered. "Ten-minute detonation."

"Confirmed," the AI said.

"Set a course to get the _Normandy_ through the waters, I want this to be as far as possible."

"Acknowledged."

"Ready to go?"

The AI avatar nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Entering in the access code onto the console, Aubrie pulled the AI chip out of the plinth and shoved it into her pocket. Rushing up to the helm, Shepard tugged at her Flight Lieutenant's shoulders.

"C'mon Joker, we got to go!"

Jeff paused for a moment, hesitant to leave.

"Dammit," Moreau hissed.

Unlatching his buckle, he quickly followed Shepard, snatching a rifle from the weapons locker. Aubrie checked the ammo reading of her MA5 before slamming the escape pod console. The metal doors rushed open, allowing Shepard to perform a quick sweep before entering.

Strapping herself to the pilot seat, Aubrie locked her rifle into the mag clamps and checked the passengers.

"Everyone's here ma'am," said Pressly. "Punch it."

Aubrie activated the thrusters, her head slammed into the head rest as the lifeboat lurched out of its slot. Looking out the viewport, she could see the Flood infested grounds below. Overriding the autopilot, Shepard guided the lifeboat to the other end of the Citadel, far away from the stricken _Normandy_.

Flames spouted from the breaches in the hull, hurling burning embers through the sky. The destroyer shuddered and careened to it side. Her engines flared, limping away from the Citadel. The software Carlton left in his place, forced the reactor cores to push the ship away with whatever ounce of strength was left. Fuel reserves used for emergencies were dumped into the flames for an afterburner effect, shoving the vessel far out beyond the clouds.

" _Chief, how close are you?"_ Keyes asked.

" _Not close enough,"_ he answered, his voice ragged.

Shepard frowned, her brows furrowed as she looked at the remaining allied forces circling the area. Miranda Keyes was on an attack vector into the heart of the Citadel, her Pelican roaring into the fray.

"Keyes, the hell are you doing?"

" _If I don't get to Johnson in time, they'll activate the rings."_

"What?"

" _The Halos, they need a human to activate it."_

"Why?"

" _Doesn't matter. If I don't get to him, we all lose."_

"Or he ends up dead and you are the one that activates them," Aubrie argued.

" _Gotta try, Shep."_

Aubrie gripped the controls and steered the lifeboat into the Pelican's wake.

"Dammit," she muttered. "Everyone lock and load. Keyes, we're coming in on your six."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Miranda's Pelican ploughing into the control. She guided the lifeboat in on the Pelican's approach vector, clipping a pane of glass as it soared through the atrium. Covenant soldiers scatter, Brutes dived out of the way, but some were too late. Several tons of metal slammed into the massive apelike creatures, turning them into bloodied smears.

"Keyes is on the control platform. Everybody clear a path."

Captain Kaidan Alenko was first out the door; it was in his nature as an ODST to do so. His Battle Rifle chattered; spent shells arced onto the floor as he laid down suppressive fire. The other officers followed in close behind, fanning out and advancing up the stairs to the main area.

Shepard could hear the distant explosions down the hall. It probably is the Delta Squad with the Arbiter and the Chief. Pushing on, Aubrie flanked around to the right side of the stairs, firing a burst directly into a Brute's chest. The alien roared in defiance and returned fire. Spike rounds tore through the air where Shepard once was, embedding into the deck or the barricades.

Leaning out of cover, Shepard fired another burst, punching through the armour plating. Dark red blood flowed, soaking the fur and dripping onto the ground. The Brute growled again, howling in rage.

"Alenko, take him out!" Aubrie commanded.

The ODST Officer quickly brought his Battle Rifle to bear, drilling three rounds into the alien's chest, toppling the Brute over.

"We're clear!" Kaidan said. "Move up!"

Sprinting up the stairs and onto the circular platform, Shepard spotted the Pelican, and the several bloodied smears where the dropship had crushed the Covenant soldiers. Keyes and Johnson were currently locked in a firefight against the remaining Honour Guards. Alenko and Jenkins strafed left in perfect unison, their combined fire working in concert with one another.

"One's going berserk!" Joker cried, firing on the bloodlust Brute.

Armour piercing rounds punched through the metal plates a dug deep into the alien's flesh, but it did little to stop it. The Brute made a mad dash for the downed Pelican, roaring in savage delight as it fired spiker rounds into the dropship.

Johnson sighted the new threat and brought the dropship's rear turret to bear. Swinging the Gatling gun on its axis, he poured a torrent of heavy calibre rounds into the Brute, ripping the massive creature into bloodied ribbons.

"Move up and stay quiet, watch your sightlines," Shepard ordered.

The _Normandy_ crew moved up onto the main platform and fanned out before returning their attention back to the cavernous passageway.

"Hey, we've got a live one here, it's the Prophet of Truth," Jenkins said, keeping his rifle firmly pressed into the back of a bulbous skull.

Shepard jogged over to the main console, her finger resting on the trigger guard.

"Get him up," she ordered.

The Private complied, wrenching the Covenant leader up to his feet.

" _Hurrahahahaahaha!"_ an eerie voice laughed, its deep deathly tone rang through the halls like a ghostly song.

The platform began to shake as tentacles of biomass lurched into the air.

"Everyone! Onto the Pelicans, now!" Shepard roared.

Boots thundered up the ramp as machine gunfire chattered ove thei heads. Flood poured onto the ramp, hobbling at a supernatural speed with an insatiable hunger.

"Everyone's on board!" Alenko shouted.

The Pelicans' engines hummed as Keyes lifted the bird off the ground.

Air whipped into the cargo bay as Miranda deftly guided the Pelican around the flailing tentacles. Fiery hands leapt from the barrels as automatic fire filled the air, striking the Flood on the ground.

Closing the hatch, Aubrie turned her attention to the Prophet of Truth, the leader of the Covenant, and the one who ordered the butchering of billions of humans.

The war was almost over, Shepard could feel it. Far out in the distant skies, the _Normandy_ detonated, casting a blinding light onto everything below. Aubrie shielded her eyes as she closed the viewport. She had hoped the ship would see the end of the war.

" _Chief, what's your status?"_ Keyes ordered.

Gunfire surged through the COMs.

" _We're in deep,"_ the Spartan answered. _"Making our way back out."_

"Do you need support?" Shepard asked.

There was a pause on the other end.

" _Negative. We've already lost most of Delta Squad."_

" _Copy, Chief. Rally back at the_ Dawn _."_

" _Copy."_

…

 **Aboard the UNSC** _ **Charon**_ **-class light frigate** _ **Forward Unto Dawn**_

Shepard watched as a team of ODSTs haul the Prophet of Truth off to the brig. Keyes had given the men explicit orders to keep the Hierarch in isolation and under close guard. If at any moment the ship was breached, the Marines were to immediately toss frags into the Prophet's cell. The leader of the Covenant was not to leave this ship alive without being in UNSC custody.

"We should kill him," the Arbiter insisted strongly. "He must be silenced."

"He'll stand trial," Keyes countered. "He'll be proven guilty of war crimes, and executed."

"Who knows?" Aubrie added. "Maybe the tribunal will let you do it."

That answer seemed to satisfy the Elite for now.

Turning away from the Prophet, the group made their way to the Command Bridge. Upon entering the deck, Shepard made a beeline to the central display console which projected an analysis of the Covenant Capital.

Despite the grand size of _High Charity_ , it was inextricably small in comparison to the Ark. The grotesque mushroom shaped station lay upon the Forerunner Installation like a fungal infestation, oozing spores into the surrounding air.

Like all organic life, the Flood was bound to the laws of physics. In the vacuum of space, their DNA would denature from the cosmic radiation and their flesh would freeze over. Thus to survive on the hull of _High Charity_ , the Flood would need to from a thick carapace to protect itself. But the punishment the station took from jumping through slipspace to Earth to get to the portal, and Earth's defences had broken the carapace, leaving shrivelled battered flesh on the hull.

Looking at the massive display showing the Flood Forms rushing out of the station set uneasiness in Shepard's stomach. Already, countless sentinels and Elite warships moved into combat the threat.

"We need to fire Halo to destroy the Flood," Miranda said.

"Cortana has the Index we can use," John said.

"But how are we going to get in?" Shepard asked. " _High Charity_ is a Flood hive."

"Leave that to me," the Spartan said. "Just contain the Flood."

"Maybe we don't need to fire the Halo," Shepard suggested.

All eyes turned towards her.

"Halo doesn't look finished, we fire it; it could destroy the Ark and us with it."

"It's that or let the Flood have a foothold," Keyes countered.

Aubrie bowed her head slightly and sighed.

"Looks like we're going in," she said.

"No," the Spartan interrupted. "The Arbiter and I will go in, alone. Once we've set off the reactors, bring in everything you've got and glass it."

"Alright, good luck," Keyes bid.

The two massive warriors turned away from the console and left. Minutes later, a lone Pelican departed. Turning her eyes back to the Monitor, Shepard could see multiple Separatists contacts link up with the Chief and the Arbiter.

"Spec Ops," Miranda said.

"Hopefully they'll be able to pull it off."

Walking over to an AI plinth, Aubrie withdrew Carlton's chip from her pocket and inserted it into the slot.

"What are you thinking?" Miranda asked, noticing Shepard's grave expression.

Aubrie looked around, seeing if anyone was listening in.

"The Ark is a treasure trove of information," she said quietly. "You and I both know that even with Truth in custody, the Covenant is still strong enough to wipe us out."

Miranda nodded lightly in agreement.

"Go on," she said.

"We go back to the Citadel, and have Carlton upload himself into the mainframe."

"Are you crazy?" Keyes hissed. "The Flood, Gravemind."

Aubrie frowned.

"No wait, I have an idea," Miranda said. "I'll have a few Engineers load up a computer into a Pelican and he can remote fly it to a terminal and upload himself."

"That'll work," Shepard agreed.

"If I may interrupt," Carlton interjected. "I can create a small fragment of myself and upload it into a Clarion Drone. Full discretion, no one will know but us."

"Do it," both Commanders said.

The AI avatar nodded and winked off from the display.

"Let's hope this pays off," Shepard muttered under her breath.

…

Shepard sat in the cafeteria, toying with a plate of fettuccine. It was tasteless, and bland, not like she remembered. But this is what an increase in stress hormones did to the human body. It removed appetite. Heaving a weary sigh from her chest, she placed the fork down and rubbed her hands together nervously. She hated waiting. But there was little she could do in the fight to save Cortana. _High Charity_ was covered in biomass, infested with the Flood. She would stand little chance of even making it through the first hall.

" _Shepard,"_ Miranda's voice sparked over the COMs. _"Chief and the Arbiter have Cortana."_

Without missing a beat, Aubrie leapt from her seat and shot through the halls, entering a dead sprint for the Command Bridge as her boots thundered down the corridors.

She reached the deck in time to see the explosion reach the outer hull of the station.

It started with the wavering of _High Charity_ 's lights, followed by the blossoming fireballs rippling along its stalk. A silver blue flashed across the entire station as biomass was shed off the hull. Flashes of amber winked through the ports, eventually combining into a brilliant white light.

Stems of flame and sparks struck out and licked the surface of the Ark hungrily, or reached out into the blackness of space. With _High Charity_ 's superstructure weakened, the station began to collapse in on itself like an eggshell. Huge chunks of the dome cracked and fell as smaller explosions flung debris into all directions. Without the shields, there was nothing left to stop the molten metal flow out onto the Forerunner Installation.

"Is it done?" one of the crew whispered.

Miranda shook her head.

"It's not over yet," she answered. "Ensign, plot a course towards the Halo."

She then switched to the COM channel.

"Cortana, I need you to upload the location of the Control Room."

" _Copy that. You should have it now,"_ the AI replied.

The soothing tone of Cortana's dulcet voice flooded the speakers, but she sounded terribly tired and weary.

" _We'll meet you there,"_ she continued.

"Wait," Shepard interrupted. "We need to get all non-combatants off."

" _Arbiter says the Shipmaster is already on it. Phantoms are on intercept."_

Aubrie looked for Moreau and quickly jogged over to him.

"Jeff," she began seriously. "Get everyone to the Pelicans or the Phantoms."

"What about you?" he asked worriedly.

She gave a sad smile, her pilot knew her too well.

"Keyes and I are gonna help the Chief."

Jeff's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"Are you crazy?" he cried, exasperated.

Aubrie didn't bother answering when she opened up her COMs to Captain Alenko.

" _Ma'am?"_ he answered.

"Suicidal mission, I need volunteers."

There was a pause on the other end.

" _How many?"_

"As many as you can get," Shepard answered.

…

 **Aboard a Pelican dropship, inbound to rendezvous point**

" _We are aboard,"_ the Shipmaster said. _"Humans and Elite_. _Will you not come with us, brother?"_ Rtas 'Vadum's voice crackled over the COMs.

" _No. This is our fight,"_ the Arbiter answered. _"And I will see it finished."_

" _Cortana to team two, our Pelican's damaged. We'll need to make a crash landing."_

"Copy that, Cortana," Shepard answered. "We'll link up with you."

As the pilot circled the drop ship over the Chief's crash site, Aubrie opened the rear doors and saw two more Pelicans as well as a squadron of Hornets. The second team was composed of volunteers as Shepard had asked. Alenko managed to get Gunnery Sergeant Ashely Williams and her fire team of Marines, Lieutenant James Vega, and Private Jenkins. Johnson, on the other hand, managed to rope in Private Chips Dubbo and Marcus Stacker. Excluding the crew, there were thirteen people aboard.

The drop ships came to a halt, hovering above the upper platform of the ziggurat.

" _Good luck everyone. We'll maintain a low orbit and provide fire support,"_ the pilot said.

"Roger that," Shepard replied. "See you in a few."

Stepping out into the cold air, the team took up a defensive formation as they swept the fields with the rifles.

"Chief, what's your pos?" Miranda broadcasted.

" _Moving up the tower,"_ the Spartan answered.

" _This is Dagger Three-Two, we have eyes on the Chief,"_ a Hornet pilot said. _"Moving into to assist."_

" _Many thanks,"_ Cortana replied.

"Move to the edge, but watch your sector," Shepard ordered. "Williams, hang back and cover us if any pods drop on top."

"Yes, ma'am."

The team fanned out and covered the walkways, pouring fire at any Flood forms that came near. Aubrie hanged near the ledge, watching the Flood swarm the tower. Hornets swooped in on an attack run, their guns roaring as they spewed heavy calibre rounds at the parasites. Plumes of dirt and snow kicked up into the air as shattered flesh blew in all directions.

"Chief, double time it," Miranda said. "Not all of us have energy shields."

"Flood's crawling all over the tower," Johnson warned. "Watch yourself."

The Sergeant Major then turned to the door.

"Spark? You in there? Open the damn door!"

"Of course, Reclaimer. Just as soon as you dispose of all proximate Flood threats. I'm afraid containment protocols do not allow me to…"

"Yeah, yeah," Johnson brushed brusquely. "I hear you."

Eventually, the Chief and the Arbiter made it to the top of the tower.

" _I have beaten fleets of thousands! Consumed a galaxy of flesh and mind and bone!"_ the Gravemind roared through his proxies.

"Someone's pissed," Shepard muttered.

"Mean's we're winning," Keyes smirked.

The Hornets came in for another attack run, thinning out the ranks.

"Dagger, be careful," Cortana warned. "Some of the Flood have heavy weapons."

" _Ten-four on that,"_ the squadron leader said. _"Whoa, look out Three-Four."_

In the distance, Shepard saw a plume of smoke rising rapidly, heading straight for a Hornet. But with the pilot's quick reflex, the disaster was avoided as the Hornet pulled out of the incoming missile, and then returned fire. The entire ridgeline was hammered with a hail of bullets and rockets, buckling the rock and ice onto the valley floor below.

"Open up!" Johnson bellowed to Spark. "Coast is clear."

The heavy metal doors parted, allowing the assault team to enter.

"It's trying to rebuild itself on this Ring," Cortana said worriedly.

"What is?" Miranda asked.

"The Gravemind," the AI answered.

"Hurry. Control Room's close!"

Upon moving into the Control Room, Shepard took in the long transparent walkway that led to the control console, where the real time status of the Halo ring's construction was visually displayed.

The eerily cheery humming from Guilty Spark sent chills down Aubrie's spine as she saw the Monitor glide over to the Sergeant Major.

"Oh, hello!" the Forerunner AI greeted the group. "Wonderful news – the Installation is almost complete."

"Terrific," Johnson replied uninterested.

"Yes… isn't it?" Spark added uneasily. "I have begun my simulations. No promises, but initial results indicate that this facility should be ready to fire… in just a few more days!"

"We don't have a few more days!" Johnson interrupted impatiently.

Remembering the firing sequence at the Control Room, the Sergeant Major prepared the activation.

"Bu-bu-but a premature firing will _destroy_ the Ark!" the AI cried in alarm.

"Deal with it," the Sergeant snapped dismissively.

"… will destroy the Installation," Spark added.

The AI rose, bearing down on the Sergeant, his eye turning read.

"Watch out!" Jenkins cried.

Everything came to a crawl as Shepard watch the ODST shove the Sergeant Major out of the way. A fiery lance lashed out and struck Jenkins in the back of the head, melting away the armour plates. Johnson fell back onto the transparent floor, just as the dead Helljumper's body fell on top of him.

"Unacceptable! Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!" the Monitor was in hysterics.

A blast of red leapt from the blue orb and struck the Master Chief. His shields flashed gold and winked out of existence. Knocked to the ground, the Spartan tried to get back up, but he was struck again, smoke curling from the plates.

"Protocol dictates action! I see now that helping you was wrong!"

Spark quickly turned his attention to the Arbiter, blasting him out of the room.

"Open up!" Alenko roared.

Bullets bounced off the rampant AI, but when it hovered closer to the Chief, the firing ceased.

"You are a child of my makers," he said to the Spartan. "Inheritor of all they left behind. You _are_ Forerunner! But this ring…"

The Monitor turned red once more.

"…is _mine_."

Another crimson lance struck out again, melting straight through ballistics armour of the Marine standing in front of Shepard. She felt the heat strike her dead centre. Landing on her back, pain wracked her chest as she coughed.

"I take no pleasure in doing what must be done," Spark stated.

"Aubrie!" Miranda cried.

The Commander came to Shepard's side, pushing the smouldering body off of her and dragging her out of the line of fire.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm all right," Aubrie wheezed.

Miranda pulled her to her feet, and the two kept low as Spark turned his attention _solely_ on the Chief.

The group opened fire, but it didn't do much. The rounds just bounced and sparked off the Monitor, clattering to the ground in fragments or ricocheting off into the distance off the room.

"This is fucking loco," Vega hissed as he strafed to the left.

"Lock it up, Lieutenant," Alenko ordered. "Williams, hit Spark with everything you got!"

Shouldering a rocket launcher, a plume of smoke left the barrel and streaked towards the Monitor. A sphere of fire rapidly enveloped the rampant AI, but before the smoke even cleared, Spark was on the move again. A merciless barrage was concentrated entirely on the Spartan.

The Chief ducked and rolled with such speed Shepard didn't think was possible. But it was the only thing keeping him alive. Wispy hands of smoke curled up from his armour, the paint on his chest plate was marred, and the metal beneath was probably warped. Gel oozed out from the exhaust, bubbling and boiling.

"You do not deserve this ring!" Spark cried. His voice warped and enraged. "I have kept it safe. It belongs to me!"

The Monitor fired again, clipping the Spartan on his right shoulder. The Chief was flung violently across the walkway and landed with a screeching halt. His MA5 fired in vain against the murderous AI, and as soon as the magazine ran dry, he dropped the rifle and switched to his shotgun.

The weapon boomed and echoed, spent shells clattering onto the floor. At first it was the canister shots that showered the Monitor harmlessly. Then, the Spartan shoved in slug rounds. A resounding clash of metal rolled across the room every time one of those rounds struck.

"Spartan, behind me!" the Arbiter bellowed.

The Elite tossed a shield generator onto the floor, encircling the two in a protective energy shell.

 _This is it,_ Shepard thought. Any moment, Guilty Spark would turn his attention on the rest of them. But still, he kept on firing at the Spartan. He was so fixated on it that when William's second missile struck, he didn't even bother to retaliate. Aubrie was beginning to believe that this _Light Bulb_ was indestructible.

"Keyes!" Johnson called.

Miranda and Shepard entered a dead sprint across the walkway as the rest of the team fired futilely at Spark. Kneeling by the Sergeant Major, Aubrie could see the dead ODST's burnt form. Pulling him off of Johnson, she could see that his pauldron had fused to his chest plate. She wondered if his arm was still alive, or was it just dead tissue. It was too hard to tell with the smell Jenkins's cooked body filling the air.

"Kick his ass," Johnson said to Miranda, handing her his Spartan Laser.

Shepard grabbed Jenkins's Squad Automatic Weapon and began to fire on Spark, for some hopeless attempt to draw away fire. Then, Keyes fired.

The shot struck home, cracking the casing. Electric sparks arced into the air as the disoriented AI sputtered in flight, plasma hissing out of his sides. That was when the AI's self-preservation instincts must've kicked in.

"You – you cracked my casing!"

Spark turned around, and instinctively, Aubrie threw herself in front of Miranda. Her eyes squinted shut as she waited for the searing heat to pierce her back and punch out her chest, but it never happened.

"Again!" the Chief bellowed.

Rolling out of the way, Aubrie couldn't believe her eyes. The Spartan had latched onto the Monitor, wrenching the AI off his flight path. The added weight of the Arbiter and the damages done, Spark was unable to escape their grasp.

Shouldering the laser once more, Miranda initiated the charge up.

"Firing in three two one!"

The Chief released his grip, and the Arbiter pulled him down, just as the laser struck. Guilty Spark was violently tossed off course, barely stabilising himself at a tilted angle.

"Accept your legacy!" the AI sputtered. "Think of you-ou-our forefathers!"

Another missile from Williams struck, knocking the AI off balance again and buying precious time for Miranda to fire the killing blow. The red lance slammed into Spark. The Monitor reeled end over end, plasma venting violently as electricity arced.

"Oh myyyyyy-aaaaah!" the AI screamed.

In a blink of an eye, Spark was enveloped in blinding blue light that came from within. His casing shattered completely, showering the deck in metal and just like that, he was destroyed.

Aubrie stood up and lowered the SAW, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. The skirmish just happened so fast, and yet it felt like an eternity. Helping Johnson up, Shepard stepped back as the Sergeant Major held Cortana's AI chip over the console, letting her access Halo's core.

Activating Halo, she uploaded herself back into the chip, which was then handed back to the Chief.

"Run!" She cried through his speakers.

Instantly, everyone made a mad dash for the exit as the beam in the centre of the room brightened and intensified. The superstructure of the ring began to shake as support struts fell from the ceiling and crashed into the walkway. Entering the hall, everyone heard the ominous growl of the Flood.

They were so close yet still so far from getting through this. There was no way in hell Aubrie was going to die here, not after all she had been through. She'd be damned if she did. Bringing the SAW up to bear, she squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon kick in her arms. A firestorm of rounds left the barrel, hosing down the Flood forms.

Chunks of flesh flew off the parasites as they were mowed down by a barrage of gunfire. Infection forms danced from one tendril to another, only to be shredded into a pasty mist of green.

The Arbiter took point with his energy sword while the Chief acted as a rear-guard. His speed allowed him to lay down accurate fire while keeping up with the escaping group. But there was only so much a Spartan could do.

As the counter dropped to zero, Aubrie tossed the SAW aside and drew her sidearm. Her magnum thundered as she blasted away the bulbous parasites. The Marines maintained their posistons and laid down suppressive fire, but one of Williams's men was unlucky enough to be struck in the collar by a 7mm caseless round. The woman didn't even cry as her shocked body fell to the floor.

"Dennings is down!" a Marine shouted.

Instinctively, Shepard looped her gloved hand into the shoulder strap of the Marine and dragged her along the ground while a Corporal held the other arm.

A Combat Form rounded the corner at the rear, firing a rifle burst. Two rounds caught Miranda in the chest, but her breast plates stopped the rounds. But Shepard wasn't so lucky. An armour piercing round punched cleanly through her left shoulder, and another trio hitting her centre mass, with a final round glancing off her standard issue helmet.

It felt like being hit by a rampaging bull. Aubrie lost her footing and fell back, the air knocked out of her chest. None of the rounds punctured her vitals at least that was what she hopped.

"Aubrie!" Miranda cried.

Her friend quickly grabbed her shoulder straps and dragged her along the ground.

The Spartan quickly towered over them, protecting them from the brunt of the assault.

"Help me up!" Shepard yelled. "I can still walk."

Miranda hauled Aubrie to her feet.

Turning around, they sprinted out onto the platform where the Pelicans awaited. Running up the ramp, Shepard strapped herself into the seats as the rest of the survivors filed on board. One of the crewmen manned the gun and began to fire into the emerging Flood horde.

"Everyone's on board!" the Spartan bellowed.

" _Ma'am, I'm bringing the_ Dawn _around_ ," Carlton broadcasted.

"Good," Miranda said. "We're almost home."

Feeling the g-forces on her body, Shepard's ears were quickly filled with the sound of roaring engines as the pilot gunned for the frigate's hangar.

The moment the drop ships touched down on the metal deck, the crew and passengers quickly disembarked to help secure the birds while the massive airlocks closed. Reaching down to her ankles, Shepard flicked on her magnetic soles and planted herself firmly on the floor before running towards the Command Bridge.

From the rear cameras, Aubrie could see blue bolts streak towards the centre of the ring from its circumference, coalescing into one giant sphere. Debris shook from the Installation, showering the Ark in huge chunks of debris.

Power was diverted to the engines, spare liquid fuel reserves were dumped into the thrusters for an afterburner boost. Shepard stumbled, but quickly regained her footing, her hand wrapped around a bar.

The _Forward Unto Dawn_ entered the portal, and all the cameras faded to black. No one dared breathe a sigh of relief, it wasn't over yet. They all knew that the Ark was what kept the portal open. If the destruction of Halo were enough to damage the Ark's infrastructure, then the Installation's ability to maintain the portal would be compromised.

Walking over to the Weapons Officer's chair, Aubrie pulled the harness around her and strapped in. Everyone else did the same, eyes held tensely at the console.

"Exiting slipspace in five," Carlton said, initiating the countdown. "Four, three, two, one."

Plunging back into normal space, Shepard's eyes were immediately assaulted by sunlight before the viewports dimmed. Alarms blared through the speakers, the ship's systems flashing red. The _Dawn's_ velocity was incredibly high, the air boiling away at the ablative plates, leaving a trail of orange and smoke in the ship's wake.

" _Warning! Low altitude!"_ the systems howled.

The frigate's superstructure groaned under the immense pressure. Aubrie could feel the deck rumble beneath her as the reverse thrusters roared to life. Carlton dumped extra fuel into the flames to slow the descent, but they were coming in too fast at a near nose dive at the Artefact.

Shepard grunted as the g-forces pushed against her frame, darkness encroaching her vision. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Spartan and the Arbiter taking brace positions against the display. They were too large for the seats.

The _Dawn_ flattened out and roared over the city of Voi, and the pressure subsided. Blinking away the dots in her vision, Aubrie looked at the sensors; she could see a multitude of friendly contacts closing in. Squadrons of Longsword Interceptors moved into an escort formation while Rescue Dropships remained close behind.

"We're still going too fast," she shouted.

"We'll make it," Keyes reassured.

The ocean was becoming increasingly larger as the horizon rose. They were going to crash. Gripping her chair, Shepard waited for the inevitable impact.

Ploughing through the water, Aubrie was thrown forward in her seat, her chest crushed against the harness. A pained cry escaped her lips as she gasped for breath.

Water splashed up onto the hull, steam curling off the hot metal. The levels rose rapidly, lapping at the viewports of the Command Bridge, and then, the ship came to a jarring halt. The entire deck shook violently as the sound of scrapping metal and rock ripped through the whole vessel.

The main display projected the image of the frigate; the lower decks flashing red. The hulls were breached and water was flooding in. Immediately, the bulkheads were sealed shut. No one was reported to be in those areas anyway.

"We're secure," Carlton announced. "We're home."

Silence, only the sound of people unclasping their harness could be heard.

Feeling a hand on her right shoulder, Shepard looked up and saw the Chief.

"Are you alright?" he asked, undoing her harness with extreme care.

Aubrie nodded as he helped her out of the seat.

Reaching up to the latch, Shepard unclasped the armour plates from her uniform, letting the warped and dented composite materials drop onto the floor. She winced as her hand touched her chest. They were minor burns, nothing an ice pack wouldn't fix.

Miranda walked over to her, placed a hand on her upper arm, and the other on her shoulder. Keyes wanted Shepard to sit down and remain still while she gave her a lookover.

The Spartan knelt beside her and withdrew a biofoam canister from the medpack she didn't even see him carry.

"This is going to sting," he said.

Placing the nozzle into the hole, Aubrie winced as she felt the cool sterilized tip dig into her flesh. Then, the Spartan squeezed, delivering the foam straight into the wound. Shepard gritted her teeth and hissed lightly as the sensation of a thousand fire ants crawled over her shoulder.

And then, she began to laugh. A high peel left her lips as she knocked her head back, letting her hair fall free.

"We did it," Shepard laughed.

The laugh was infectious, and soon everyone began to laugh. Not cheer, but laugh out of sheer relief.

Miranda threw her arms around Aubrie's shoulder and smiled with tears in her eyes.

"We made it," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Aubrie nodded. "We did."

She heard a helmet seal hiss and pop; she turned around to see the Master Chief gently lifting the armoured headpiece off his head, and place it on a counter beside him. With a free hand, he instinctively flattened out his chestnut hair.

Looking at his face, she didn't know what to expect. His voice was so deep, with a weary crackle in its timbre, giving him an aged wisdom that few could ever possess.

His face, however, did not easily give away his age. His skin was taut but lacked the suppleness and sheen of youth – burned away by decades of war. There were creases along his forehead, created by countless hours furrowing his brows together while he aimed down his sights. He was neither old nor young; an age impossible to tell.

Her eyes met his, and she gave him a curt nod and a thankful smile. He returned a courteous nod in earnest before turning his attention back out the viewport. He looked tired and relieved. The war was not quite over, but they could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, the clear skies that lay beyond the storm. That would have to be enough.

A few minutes later, the rescue teams knocked on the airlocks, letting the salty air of the sea fill the ship. It wasn't lost on Shepard how so many of the soldiers gave pause when they saw the helmetless Spartan. It had been easy to think of them as machines or gods, without a face, they held a near-mythical status amongst the UNSC.

He turned to Vega and Dubbo.

"Come with me," he ordered.

They fell behind him without question as he walked out of the Command Bridge. Sensing what was happening, the Arbiter followed them too. They were going to get the Prophet of Truth and march him out in chains. In hindsight, they should've tossed him onto the _Shadow of Intent_. If the _Forward Unto Dawn_ was destroyed on the Ark, the Prophet could've been martyred.

A medic came over and attached a sling around her arm, checking her as she made sure the Commander didn't have any more wounds.

"C'mon, let's get you outta here," the medic said, gently pulling Aubrie towards the Bridge Airlock.

Stepping outside, she let the setting sun touch her face as she closed her eyes. The soft sea breeze played with her hair as she untied her ponytail. She could feel it, a certain relief in the air as humanity exhaled. No war ends cleanly, but at least now, everyone had a tomorrow. Looking up to the skies over Voi, the Portal was gone and the storms silenced.

Shepard heard the grumblings of an alien tongue. She waited for the translation software to kick in on her ear piece.

"You heretics will be punished!" the Prophet hissed. "I am Truth, the voice of the Covenant! Your reckoning is at hand."

"Yeah, yeah," Johnson brushed dismissively. "You said that last time, wormy."

Already, the news choppers were in the air, filming the return of the gallant heroes. No doubt there would be a sea of reporters waiting to pounce on them once they got to dry land.

Truth emerged from the airlock in shackles, his weak frame flanked by heavily armed guards as they shoved him into a Pelican dropship. The Chief with his helmet back on, stayed close behind, ready to move if the Covenant Leader tried anything. The Arbiter seemed a little twitchy, not being able to summarily execute the Prophet. But Aubrie guessed that he was letting the UNSC interrogate and then put Truth on trial, as a gesture of goodwill.

No matter, it was no longer her problem. She just wanted to have a few days of R and R, maybe catch the earliest flight to Elysium once she's had something to eat.

Another Pelican touched down, and then she and Miranda were ushered aboard. Sitting down, the Master Chief walked into the hold and wrapped his fingers around a handle as the dropship lifted off. The flight was brief as it landed at a Forward Operating Base.

Judging by how clean the cinder blocks were, she guessed it was recently built to act as a makeshift command and control hub in the region. On the way in, she had seen hundreds if not thousands of tents and prefab shelters outside of the base's perimeters for refugees.

Stepping onto the landing pad, she spotted a man heading towards them, flanked by two UNSC ONI Security Guards. He was pressed neatly in the Dress Blues of the UNSC Air Force Service Uniform, tie done up in a full Windsor knot with a dimple. Jet black hair, blue eyes and a strong rounded jaw that gave him a lean look, but as he moved closer, Aubrie could see the wrinkles from constant frowning. She'd peg his age at around mid-thirties or maybe forties. But who knew anyone's age by looking at them these days?

Seeing the insignia on his cap, he seemed quite young to be holding a senior rank, especially in Military Intelligence. His orderly didn't look that much younger than him either.

Immediately, Miranda broke into a light jog – which was very unlike her. She threw her arms around the Brigadier General, who stiffened at the contact but then returned the hug with a smile. Breaking the hug, Miranda stepped back with a joyful smile plastered all over her face.

Moving closer, she could see the name tag on his chest: _Keyes._

Instantly, Shepard knew who he was. Miranda had mentioned her brother a few times in passing. Even retold some funny childhood stories, but rarely talked about his adult life. All Shepard knew was that he had joined the Air Force.

"Shepard," Miranda called. "This is my brother, Charleston."

"Pleasure to meet you, Commander," he said with a smile. "And thank you for keeping her safe."

"Actually I was the mother hen, Charlie," Miranda interrupted.

Charles gave a short laugh.

"Sure you were."

Shepard wondered if she should snap a salute, it didn't seem quite appropriate all things considering. But that didn't stop the Master Chief.

"Sir," the Spartan saluted.

"At ease, Chief," Charles said, returning the salute. "I'm here to offer you a ride back. A debrief, then lunch is on me, and then you're free to go on leave for a week."

Shepard frowned inwardly. Flying to Elysium would take a few weeks.

"I'd like some medical attention, though," Aubrie said, glancing down at her sling.

"We'll patch you up on the way," Charles said.

"He's a doctor," Miranda added. "So… where are we having lunch?"

Aubrie had the same question too. With most of Earth having been devastated in the attack, she wondered what cities were left standing.

"Comoro Islands," he answered.

"Never heard of it," Miranda said.

"Me neither," Charles shrugged. "But it's one of the places left on this side of the hemisphere which isn't flooded with refugees."

Stepping onto another Pelican, Aubrie noticed that this one belonged to the Air Force, specifically, the Para-Jumper Rescue.

"Commander Shepard!" an elderly voice called.

Aubrie turned to see the beaming face of Doctor Karen Chakwas, awaiting her inside the dropship.

"It's good to see you safe," she said.

"You too," the Commander smiled.

Chakwas gestured for Shepard to sit on the bed, while everyone else took whatever seat they could. The Chief, on the other hand preferred to stand, helping a medic tend to the burns on Johnson's arm and chest.

She felt the maternal touch of the Doctor as she looked at the wound, and ran an ultrasound and then an x-ray over the shoulder.

"You are a lucky woman, Commander Shepard," Chakwas said with relief.

"I don't think I'll be feeling lucky tomorrow," Aubrie said dryly.

Looking at the results on the console, Charles spoke up.

"The round missed any major blood vessels and ligaments but shattered your shoulder blades," he said.

"So, no golf for me then?" Aubrie joked.

Charles shook his head.

"Once we touch down on the Comoros, it's straight to surgery for you. And before you ask, every camp in the region is backlogged with a waiting list. We should have you in and out quickly."

"Thanks, sir."

"Now, let's start from the top," Charles began. "What happened on the Ark?"

…

" _He saw that they were growing tired, that their time was here. He knew a cure was not meant to be, and so He whispered to them, 'come with me.' With tearful eyes, we watched them leave. We begged and wept for them to stay, but in the end, we could only watch, and let Him take them away into a gentle night. So with a heavy heart, from those who remain, may the tears of our grateful children forever fall on your graves."  
_ _ **-To the Fallen**_

…

 **Afterword**

I know this chapter didn't quite build off the last, but we're going through character establishment here. Next chapter should have more of the details you're looking for. I'm not aiming to dump copious amounts of information on you in one sitting like I did with _Lost Legacy_.

Anyway, love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know.


	3. End of an Era

**Foreword**

A reminder for you all to read _Finish the Fight_ (previous chapter) if you haven't already. Apparently the update didn't go out after I pulled the previous chapter.

…

 **End of an Era**

…

" _I don't think anyone really understood what the Harvest Campaign meant at the time. At the time, it was about pride and symbolism. That was as a species could fight the Covenant. We were wrong. So horrifyingly wrong. Harvest marked the beginning of a very possible end for us."  
_ **-VADM David Gordon**

…

 **1322 hours, December 15** **th** **, 2552  
UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6  
Sydney, Australia**

The meeting was coming up to the two hour mark as Charles discussed the finer details of what had happened on the Ark.

"Commander Keyes and Commander Shepard have left an AI fragment behind on the Ark in the hopes that a way could be found to reactivate the portal and allow us to return," he said.

Keyes quickly took over the projector, uploading information from his tablet onto the display. An image of the Ark appeared, plus the rough annotations he had made on the structure.

"The first Halo was destroyed back in September," Keyes said. "If we look at the Ark, it has managed to build an actionable replacement Ring in less than three months. Just imagine what we could accomplish with that kind of production infrastructure."

"But how do we get there?" Admiral David Gordon, the Head of Section I, asked. "You said it yourself, the Ark is too far, and we're waiting on the Carlton Fragment to reactivate the Portal."

Keyes leaned forward onto the table, and cleared his throat. He looked up at Parangosky, who shook her head lightly.

"They should know," he said aloud. "We're almost finished."

"Fine, tell them," the Admiral gestured.

Entering commands into his tablet, Charles brought up a ship schematic. A few eyebrows quirked as they saw the dimensions of the ship, it was too big to be effective. With known UNSC tech, the ship would be nothing more than a meat shield.

"This is Project Infinity," Keyes explained. "It is built using every single scrap of Forerunner and Covenant technology we could find."

The display focused on a read out of the armaments.

"Primarily, we designed this ship to be a multirole carrier, but the _Infinity_ is more than capable of singlehandedly overpowering a Covenant battlegroup in seconds."

Keyes could practically here the Brass guffaw at that claim, usually it would take three battlegroups to stamp out one Covenant battlegroup, and that fight could last for hours.

"These MAC guns and plasma turrets are the backbone of this ship's firepower. She is fast and agile enough to engage in large scale hit and run tactics. The Macedon Drive we have installed was acquired from a Forerunner vessel discovered on Trevelyan, would take the _Infinity_ roughly three months to reach the Ark."

"If that ship is as powerful as you say it is," Hood interrupted. "Having it leave to establish a base on the Ark and return is a _very_ long time. This war is not over, not yet."

"I understand, Admiral," Keyes said graciously.

"Why does the _Infinity_ carry a compliment of ten frigates?" Gordon asked.

Charles shifted uncomfortably as a series of hot pinpricks ran down his back.

"That was an ad hoc decision by one of the engineers," Charles explained. "Originally that space was meant for cryogenically preserved embryos and resources for colonisation."

They all knew what that meant. Despite the power of _Infinity_ , it was still just one ship. It could not turn the tide of war against the Covenant, not by itself. This ship was meant to run when all hope of any kind of victory was lost.

"If we can repurpose the facilities on the Ark, we can begin mass production of the _Infinity-_ class."

That all perked their attention, if they could integrate the _Infinity_ -class into standard naval combat doctrine, then UNSC force projection would be more than enough to hold ground.

"Send the Macedon schematics over to logistics," Hood said to Keyes. "I'll charter a battlegroup to leave as soon as it's ready. A ship like _Infinity_ should not leave our territories undefended."

"Yes, sir."

Turning the pages on his report, Hood cleared his throat.

"Where are we on Truth?" he asked.

Everyone turned their attention to Admiral David Gordon.

"Truth was quick to divulge information," Gordon said. "Almost as if he had no belief in the divine."

Charles frowned. The Prophet had seemed fanatic, overzealous when they were dragging him off for interrogation. Keyes remembered the recordings of the Covenant message that declared humanity as an affront. If Truth was so willing to give up information, it meant that the Prophet knew the Covenant was shattered, and his faith irrelevant.

"The Covenant declared war on us because we were an affront to their gods," David explained. "Well, that's a half truth. One of their scanners marked us as Forerunner technology. Then on _High_ _Charity_ , the Prophets questioned a Forerunner AI which seemed to continue the idea."

"Hold on," Hood interrupted, raising his hand. "You're saying this war was caused by some misunderstanding?"

Gordon quirked an eyebrow and nodded incredulously.

"Afraid so," he answered.

"Does this mean humans are Forerunners?" Parangosky asked.

"Oh my god," Keyes muttered.

Activating his tablet once more, he entered in commands to open the Chief's video log from when he was on the first Halo. There was a minor delay as the server combed through the databanks until eventually streaming the information into the room.

" _Why would you hesitate to do what you have already done?"_ Spark asked the Spartan.

"Our analysts thought that the AI was already rampant," Keyes said.

"As did ours," Gordon added.

Opening another file, the Chief's conversation with the Prophet of Mercy was played. He winced internally as he saw the Infection Flood Form worm its way through the Hierarch's flesh.

" _Your pal, where's he going?"_ the Spartan asked in that deep baritone voice of his.

" _Earth… to finish what we've started,"_ the Prophet answered weakly. _"And this time_ none _of_ you _shall be left behind."_

Keyes brought up another video log, this time; it was from the Master Chief's engagement with the AI.

" _You are the child of my makers. Inheritor of all they left behind. You_ are _Forerunner! But this ring… is mine!_

Charles replayed that last segment again.

" _You_ are _Forerunner_."

The silence in the room was palpable as the Senior Command replayed the line over and over again in their mind.

"The Covenant waged war on us because their leaders wanted to erase the truth," Gordon concluded. "The Prophet confirms this."

"It explains why they used humans to fire the Array," Hood added. "I thought it was just symbolic."

"So what does this mean about the Chief then?" Gordon interjected, concerned.

"Either we're all Forerunner, or he is," Charles answered.

"Thank you, General," Hood said.

The meeting came to an uneasy end as the Committee filed out slowly. A few of the senior members were discussing dinner plans for the night, but most of them sounded slightly hollow, more for the sake of trying to ignore what had occurred in the meeting and trying to get as much family time as possible.

"Want to join us, Keyes?" Hood asked.

"No thank you, sir," Charles answered, shaking his head. "I need to go meet Lambert. Tell him about this personally."

"Of course, send him my regards," Hood said.

Keyes didn't miss the slight look of annoyance that Parangosky sent him when he mentioned Lambert.

"I will sir. I'll see you next time."

…

 **1700 hours, December 17** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Manhattan Financial District, New York  
North America**

Drying off his hair with a towel, Keyes then placed a small amount of gel onto his comb before running it through his hair for a neat comb over. He had about an hour before he had to be outside the UEG Capitol Building, which considering the traffic at this hour, and the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat meant that Charles had little time to spare.

Rushing out into the main area of his hotel suite, he quickly pulled on his Service Dress Uniform before barrelling out into the hallway. He power walked quickly towards the elevator as he was tying up his tie into the usual Windsor knot.

"Sir! Your tie clip," his aide called.

He turned around, and gave a tired smile to Second Lieutenant Eliza Martinez.

"Thank you," he said.

Taking the metal clip, he fastened his tie to his shirt, and buttoned up his jacket.

"Where'd you get it?"

"The tailor shop from across the street. It has a slight grill on it, but I don't think anyone would notice the difference."

Charles looked down at the clip.

"Should be fine," he agreed.

"And here's your lamb and pork gyro, with garlic mayonnaise."

Keyes gave an exhale of relief.

"You are a godsend."

"Figured you'd starve if we waited until the Presidential Dinner, sir."

Stepping into the elevator, Keyes stood to the left behind the panel as one of his security detail pressed the key for the subterranean parking floor.

"Get any sleep on the flight?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Martinez nodded.

The platform came to a halt at the garage. His guards were the first to step out; all pressed in their service dress uniform. They fanned out into the foyer in a defensive formation and kept in step with Charles as he walked towards his armoured limousine.

Even as the Acting Head of Section III, Keyes hadn't yet gotten used to the increased security detail with him at every hour. In fact, he hadn't driven his own car since the promotion. It was probably collecting dust, or in his case, being blasted by sand and sea salt air since ONI billeted him in a penthouse by the beach. And technically, it wasn't his car; his car was probably destroyed on Reach.

Sitting down on the leather seat, he felt the servos kick in again as they adjusted to his body's contours. With everyone settled in, the small five vehicle motorcade left the hotel and linked up with a small detail of NYPD patrol cars and bikes.

"How are we doing for time?" Keyes asked.

"In this traffic sir, we should get there in forty-five minutes," Martinez answered.

"Terrific," he said quietly. "So, you grew up here."

"Yes sir," the Lieutenant answered.

"So how did you end up in Australia?"

"Family moved there when I was seventeen."

The motorcade pulled through a crowd of photographers and onlookers, ready to see this monumental day. Gigantic screens had been erected all around the city and the world, for the live broadcast. Despite the severe damages inflicted by the Covenant, most of it had been centred on Africa, and the tropics. Settlements locked in by land or closer to the poles were left practically untouched. Looking out at the throngs of people, Charles could almost believe that the war never reached Earth.

The guards at the front gates were UEG Marshals, who waved the convoy through the security checkpoint and into the basement parking below the Capitol building. Safely out of open view, Keyes's personal guards opened the door and allowed him to step out into a surprisingly beautiful subterranean entrance.

His security detail stopped outside the checkpoint, standing in wait around the vehicles while Keyes proceeded through the security checkpoint.

"ID please, General," a Marshall said.

Charles presented his security tag as well as placing his hand on a plinth for biometrics. Martinez was next as she was his personal aide.

"Thank you, sir," the Agent said, and gestured for him to move through.

Following the signs, Charles eventually reached the main hall where the entire conference was to be held. Select camera crews were already inside, ready to broadcast. Martinez broke off and headed into a waiting room with other military aides as Keyes entered the cavernous hall.

He took his seat in the UNSC VIP section, where Admiral Parangosky and Rear Admiral Osman were already seated.

"Admirals," he greeted quietly as he took his seat next to Rear Admiral Anna Greenfield, the Acting Deputy Head of Section III.

"Keyes," they all returned.

Sitting down next to Greenfield, Charles adjusted his jacket and interlaced his fingers together. Looking out into the crowd, he could see plenty of Senators all talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Then he looked closer to the front of the seating area, where the sworn government officers were seated.

There were Jackson and Lambert from ODIN, Harper and Persephone Landy from FIA, and directorates from other Federal and Independent Branches.

On the stage, Keyes could see the newly sworn in President, Doctor Ruth Charet, and other high level government officials. They had requested an immediate briefing about the war, which would make sense on why nearly everyone with pull in the UNSC was in this building. It was also a very tantalising target for a terrorist attack, but New York was on a partial lockdown with all law enforcement out in force.

The lights in the audience began to dim, quietening the Senators. Admiral Hood stood up from his seat and made his way to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Recently, UNSC Forces in cooperation with our Sangheili allies, conducted multiple operations which led to the assassinations of two Covenant Prophets, and the capture of a third. We believe that this war is coming to an end. As the Chief of Naval Operations of the UNSC, I, Lord Admiral Terrence Hood, am officially relinquishing emergency powers back to the United Earth Government."

Applause roared across the hall, Senators stood up from their seats and clapped, relief clearly written all over their faces. Hood had brushed the details a bit, but no one was going to care, they didn't need to know the reality of how precarious everything was.

"Martial Law will be lifted, and the Cole Protocol relaxed," he continued. "I now hope, that we as a people can begin to heal and rebuild. I would like to hand the stage over to Madame President, Doctor Ruth Charet."

Hood stepped back from the podium and retook his seat as President Charet took the stage. She wasn't like the archetypal politicians or presidents that came before her. Instead of trying to make herself look younger, she seems to wear her age like a badge. Her grey hair was given a pageboy style cut, and she wore a dark greyish brown suit, coupled with glasses which gave her an aura of wisdom that came with old age.

Apparently she won the previous election in a landslide vote, something Charles should've known ahead of time – not that it mattered since UNSC Emergency Powers exempted all serving personnel from voting.

"Thank you, Admiral," Charet said graciously. "Though the war is not yet over, I think it's safe to say we no longer need to hold our breath. We can now begin the long and arduous task of restoring ourselves back to our former glory, and I promise you a new era of peace and stability. The coming years will be difficult, and I know that the restorations will take far longer than my time in office will ever be, but I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to get us there faster."

The Senators clapped even louder this time, Charles could practically feel them salivating at the opportunity to finally satisfy the demands of their constituents once more.

When Charet had stepped down from the podium that was when everyone else began to file out of the hall. But the Presidential Cabinet, the UNSC High Command, and high ranking officials in the Intelligence Community were led out different passages.

Ushered by the UEG Marshals, Keyes eventually found himself in the subterranean parking, but at a deeper level. He had heard about this access tunnel, it led directly to the Presidential Estate, which was built on the artificial and _very_ originally named, Presidential Island.

"Sir! Over here!" Martinez called.

Charles turned to his right, and found his personal company limousine, and security detail waiting for him. Walking briskly over to the relatively unassuming luxury saloon Audi, he eased himself into the rich leather seats, and powered up his tablet pc.

Most of the older news outlets were shoving articles about the UNSC relinquishing Emergency Powers, and everything about the UNSC, onto their main page. But as Charles moved towards the younger outlets, Hood's declaration barely even made it onto the suggestion bar, which was quite tragic. But then again, Section II had done a really good job in convincing everyone that the UNSC had been holding its own against the Covenant. Either that, or people just didn't care about politics as much as they cared about celebrity gossip.

Powering down his tablet, he shoved it into the seat pocket as his car hummed through the tunnel. Feeling the limo slowing down, Keyes looked out the window to see that they had arrived at the carpool. More UEG Marshals came out to greet him as they opened his door and led him to the elevators. His detail had to remain behind, but his aide was allowed to accompany him.

As expected, the Estate exuded wealth without being ostentatious, classy without the stiff upper lip, and traditional without being overbearing. It had a homely touch, yet at the same time, it had the vibe of government bureaucracy and power.

The House itself was perched on a hillside, with the front facing towards New York City. The perimeter of the Island was lined with towering evergreens and shrubbery which hid thick armoured concrete walls.

Following the Marshalls, Keyes was led into a conference room which kept in line with décor of the entire estate. The long African timber table ran the entire length of the room, with high end chairs tucked under. In front of every seat was a large screen monitor, and the wall opposite the head seat, was a large wall mounted display. Running along the roof was a series of holographic projectors.

Martinez was led into an adjacent room, while Keyes walked towards a seat with his name neatly displayed on the polished table. Taking in a deep breath, he sat down and waited.

…

Doctor Ruth Charet could feel the eyes focus on her as she looked out at the sea of the most powerful people in human history to date. One person that caught her attention was the Acting Head of Section III, Brigadier General Charleston Keyes. Relative to most in the room, the Doctor was quite young, though he wasn't the youngest. That title went to the Presidential Estate's Chief of Staff.

Regardless of Keyes's relative youth, he held himself in a way that she found somewhat arrogant, or maybe frustrated. His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. If the rumours were to be believed, he was butting heads with ONI's Director, Admiral Parangosky.

"Thank you all for being here," Charet began cordially. "What's our condition? I'd like your full no BS assessment."

She noticed a subtle change in body language from most in the room. They hadn't expected her to say _that_. That threw them off, which was good.

"Bad," Hood answered bluntly. "The Covenant are in a state of civil war, on one side is the Elites, and the other are the Brutes. So far, both are locked in a stalemate."

"Are they still a threat to us?" Cameron Davis, the Vice President asked.

Everyone knew the Covenant was no longer a direct threat, but they needed to be sure.

"No," Admiral Steven Hackett, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations answered. "We have channels with the Elites, but so far they don't need our help. This one is personal with the Brutes."

"If the Elites were to lose, what do we have in terms of assets?"

Charet leaned on the table and interlaced her fingers together, panning her eyes back and forth. She noticed Keyes move out of the corner of her sights, and turned to face.

"Project Infinity," he answered. "Originally designed as last resort if Earth was lost."

"One ship cannot beat back the Covenant," Paul Murphy Russel, the Secretary of Defence, said disbelievingly.

"She wasn't supposed to," Keyes deadpanned. "It was supposed to run."

Charet winced, and she wasn't the only one in the room too. It was like a slap to the face from an armoured hand. Ruth knew that the UNSC was losing the war, the figures never lied. Section II could sell many things, but numbers always revealed the truth. Over three quarters of tax revenue was lost in the course of nearly thirty years, and it took an army of trade AIs and economic savants from keeping the entire economy from falling apart. But that was all it had been, _numbers_. The gravity of it all never really set in, the truth was too numbing.

"Carry enough supplies and genetic information, to allow humanity to find another place to restart and rebuild," he continued. "A Noah's Ark if you will. But she is more than capable of handling herself against the Covenant, though right now, we only have one ship."

"So time is not on our side then," Charet stated as a matter of fact. "We need to overhaul our military. Get R'n'D to dig up whatever they can and check our contracts."

There was a semblance of agreement as Ruth looked around the table.

"We need a better infrastructure," Hood said. "The UNSC adopted cheap, tried and tested technologies that are extremely reliable. But in terms of performance, we are outclassed. If we want to be able to compete with the Covenant, we need to focus on the Force Multiplier Doctrine."

"That Doctrine is too expensive," General Richard Crawford, Chief of Ground Operations, said.

"We need to start somewhere," Hood countered.

"I'll have my people draw up an economic plan," the Secretary of the Treasury, Jacob Miles offered. "We'll see what we can do."

Charet shuffled the papers in front of her, and then looked back up.

"Tell me about the Ark."

"Forerunner Installation outside of Milky Way, designed to build and control all the Halo Rings," Keyes answered.

Ruth noticed the slight eye contact Charles made with Hood, to which the older man gave a slight shake.

"Anything you want to tell me?" she asked the Admiral directly.

Hood paused for a moment, and then looked at her before panning his gaze across the table.

"Our officers have left an AI fragment there in the hopes that it will be able to reopen the Portal to the Ark," he explained. "It was an impromptu decision. I have my doubts it will pay off."

"But if it does?"

"We'll have access to the greatest production infrastructure in our history," Keyes answered.

Charet nodded lightly, knowing what that would mean. But it would be a fool's gambit to bank everything on that alone. Flipping the page, the President moved onto the next issue.

"Batarians, give me a full rundown. From the start."

Deputy Director Persephone Landy shifted her seat to face Ruth. She was a woman who had the complexion of the everyday mother, an average Jane in a way. Her shoulder length blonde hair and the light wrinkles around her eyes, coupled with her fair complexion made her look like a corporate woman with a family back at home. She was totally unassuming.

"We first encountered the batarians approximately eighteen months ago," Landy explained, not for the President's benefit but for the uninformed Cabinet.

Ruth did not miss the Deputy Director's choice of time scale. It made it seem like this problem was only discovered recently, instead of a year and a half.

Landy inserted her thumb drive into the datapad in front of her, and uploaded its contents for everyone to see. An image of a humanoid with a brown hue skin appeared. It had four eyes, and what appeared to be four large nasal passages upon its forehead, running along the Sagittarian crest. But central to the battarian's ridge like face were eight nasal passages.

"First contact was in the Skyllian Verge. Assets in the Mozdok System reported that Insurrectionists and the Savos population fled to the Vladivostok System – a three month jump – where they encountered batarians. Details are sketchy but it is assumed that communications between the two parties were misinterpreted and resulted in the batarians opening fire. Our assets were able to escape, but the two colony ships were destroyed completely."

The image on screen morphed into photographs of ships with a very angular but irregular design, as if someone had thrown on components in an ad hoc manner on something that should've been decommissioned.

"Skip forward to a few months, a batarian flotilla entered the Mozdok System – probably because they took ONI's signal bait – and encountered the Covenant rearguard. Our drones managed to record the battle."

The video played on the massive screen. Two _CRS_ -class light cruisers loomed over the Savos as larger ships below glassed the planet. Then, at the two minute mark of the video, the batarian flotilla appeared. Just appeared, with a dull blue wink, they didn't come out of a portal, they just _appeared_.

"Keyes," Landy called as she paused the video. "If you please."

Charles gave a light nod.

"The batarians are using what we believe to be, mass effect technology. They are in essence, harnessing dark energy. Virtually impossible to detect."

"That was why the Covenant didn't detect the batarians,"Landy added.

Hitting the play button, the whole room watched the batarian ships instantly open fire on the two light cruisers. Their guns hammered the ships in quick succession, every five seconds; the space around the prow would waver, signalling a round had been fired. Having been caught off guard, the cruiser on the right copped the worst of the attack. Dozens of fireballs billowed across its shields as thermodynamic energy was released. But under the murderous hail, the shields quickly failed, leaving the Covenant ship at the mercy of the high-velocity slugs.

The rounds punched straight through the destroyer, shredding its hull. Explosive decompressions wracked the entire ship, spitting out crew and debris alike.

Alone, outgunned and outmatched, the other heavily damaged light cruiser opened fire with its energy projector. Violet beams of energized matter streaked towards the lead batarian ship, gutting it stem to stern. But it was too little too late. The largest ships in the flotilla hammered home, hitting the reactor core. In an instant, the Covenant cruiser was ripped apart from within, huge chunks of debris sent in all directions.

Then the flotilla turned to a target off screen and broke into two pincers. The drone camera turned and adjusted to take in the new battle. Two Covenant destroyers and five frigates responded to the incursion. And that was when it became painfully clear that the batarians were outgunned, outmatched and out-massed. The Covenant ships were a kilometre long, give or take fifty meters. Their size was absolutely immense in comparison, and their shields just easily shrugged off the batarian fire.

Having arrived with weapons charged and ready to fire, the Covenant ships opened up with dozens of energized beams and salvos of plasma torpedoes. Bolts of energy bored their way through the enemy ships. In a matter of seconds, the entire batarian flotilla was reduced to nothing but red hot slag.

"What were they thinking?" Charet wondered aloud.

"We don't know," Landy answered. "The batarians just popped in, and fired. A panic reaction. They were caught off guard, didn't even have time to turn around and run."

Ruth turned he eyes to Keyes.

"Explain mass effect," Charet said.

"Mass effect was a term we came up with to describe the usage of dark energy. This was confirmed when we discovered an installation with a dark energy core."

Keyes entered in the commands on his tablet and projected an image of a structure that appeared to be like a tuning fork with rotating gyroscopic rings containing a small star.

"The nature of this structure found in the Skyllian Verge – Vetus System – was confirmed to us by Subject Prothean," Keyes explained. "We assume that the batarians may be using these networks traverse extreme distances."

"Subject Prothean?" Charet asked, she had a feeling he was going to drop another bombshell on them.

"Subject Prothean is a member of a long extinct species," Charles answered. "The Protheans were locked in a war against ancient machines called Reapers. The machines were winning, and in an attempt to gain victory, the Protheans sent their best into stasis to rebuild after the machines had left."

An image of a Reaper appeared on the main display. It was a shaped like a cuttlefish, and its size was nothing to laugh at. Stretching to two kilometres in length, it was nothing short of terrifying. But from the data shown, the ships firepower was immense, and they numbered in the millions.

Ruth schooled her features into a neutral expression as she looked around the room. She could see the tension in some of her Cabinet's shoulders.

"Reapers?"

"Apparently ancient machines that come every fifty thousand years to harvest all sentient life. So far, they have no relations to the Forerunners or Flood."

Charet bowed her head slightly and rubbed her chin. This was too much.

"Well are the Reapers a current threat?"

"Inconclusive," Keyes answered. "Subject Prothrean's stasis chamber was running on limited power supply to the point where power from the clocks was diverted to keep him alive. Sediment analysis pegged him as being buried around fifty thousand years ago. The Reaper threat may be still on the horizon."

"Or is never coming," Cameron Davis, the Vice President interrupted with an annoyed exasperation, glaring at Keyes. "These facts, this information you've been keeping from us are bold and ludicrous. We have more pressing concerns at hand, than to worry about some school of ancient fishes coming to wipe us out."

Keyes and Parangosky's features remained calm and serious as they glared at Davis.

"Our main concern," Lambert the Director of ODIN, interjected. "Should be both the batarians and the Brutes. Batarian activity in the Skyllian Verge are increasing, we need resources in both regions to combat them."

Admiral Steven Hackett, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"We should shore up our defences in the Vetus System," he said. "Deploy a division's worth of troops. It won't be enough to stop a determined assault, but it should act as a buffer to buy enough time for reinforcements. That should free up assets to assist the Elites."

…

The meeting came to an end, with everyone making their way out of the conference room. Charles followed the crowd, before breaking off for a courtyard where he found the Director of the FIA, smoking.

"Keyes," the older man greeted.

"Harper," Keyes replied courteously.

Reaching into his pocket, Charles fished out a packet of cigarettes. Looking at the date he wrote on the packet, he frowned inwardly. They had expired about two weeks ago. Tossing the packet into a nearby trash can, he shoved his hand into his pocket, and looked out at the rain.

"Never figured you for a smoker," Harper said.

"On occasion," Keyes answered.

"That's how it starts," Josiah chuckled. "First it's once a week. Then once a day. Then it's a packet a day."

Charles gave a rueful smile and shrugged.

"How long?" Harper asked.

"Since Cambridge," Keyes answered.

"Impressive," the older man said.

He wasn't referring to Charles's education, but the fact that Charles couldn't finish a packet of cigarettes before it expired since Cambridge.

Offering his packet, Keyes gave a grateful smile as he took a cigarette, placed it between his lips and lit it with a cheap lighter.

"Thanks," he said.

Inhaling, he drew a long deep breath, letting the savouring the flavour and the burning heat before exhaling.

"Tyrell & Lyndon," Charles said thoughtful.

"They're good, aren't they?" Harper nodded.

"Bit exorbitant."

Josiah gave a light shrug as he angled his head slightly to one side.

"I think today warrants it," he said.

A comfortable pause drifted between them as they watched the rain cascade off the flowers and leaves.

"I think I should quit," Harper said, putting out the cigarette before tossing the butt into the bin. "It's a filthy habit."

"Expensive too," Keyes added.

"So why didn't you quit?"

"Always something that came up," Charles answered.

"Well, better this than drink and regretful one night stands," Harper said thoughtfully.

"When have one night stands been anything but?" Keyes murmured.

Harper chuckled.

"You've been adventurous."

"Oh me? Never. Just heard about those through people."

A comfortable pause soon drifted between them, before being broken again by another mundane topic that managed to keep their world grounded.

"Thinking of buying a car," Keyes said, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Which brand?" Harper asked.

"I'm thinking Audi," Charles answered. "They have that whole incognito aspect to them. But I don't want to buy a car the Company already gives me."

"You could look into BMWs," Josiah suggested. "They're not too much attention grabbing like Mercedes."

Charles gave a soft chuckle and shook his head.

"This is why I'm more of a plane person," he said absently.

"Then go for a Jaguar," Harper chuckled.

"Bit opulent, aren't they?"

"Not as decadent as Rolls," Josiah shook his head. "Jag's mix of conservative and contemporary won't draw that much attention."

"Then why not Bentley?"

"Sure, why not?" Harper shrugged. "Personally I've got a Lincoln."

"I'll consider it."

Hearing rapid footfalls behind him, Keyes turned to find Martinez jogging up to him.

"Report's come in, sir," she breathed.

Charles turned back to Harper.

"Excuse me," he said cordially, walking away with his aide.

Taking refuge in a small little lounge area, the two quickly scanned the area for any prying eyes.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Two things, the Portal has just reopened. Local garrison is quarantining the area. So far, nothing bad has come through."

Keyes was almost flooded with joy and relief, but he quickly steeled himself.

"And the other?"

" _Port Stanley_ has returned with multiple Spartans. Onyx is destroyed, but there is another installation in its place."

"What of Doctor Halsey?" Charles asked, almost too quickly as if he were brushing aside the irrelevant details.

"She was arrested for war crimes."

Charles felt that burning sensation running down his spine once more.

"On whose authority?"

"Admiral Parangosky."

…

 **1435 hours, December 25** **th** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
The Daniel Hargreaves Centre for Military Intelligence Research (ONI Section III HQ)  
New South Wales, Australia**

Though her time at the Comoros had no doubt been fun, Shepard was itching to get home, or at least get back into action. The UNSC's recent declaration of relinquishing emergency power had been a breath of fresh air. The Brass was confident that the UEG could resume control once more, and everything could return to the way it was. Only that it wasn't. Despite having grown up with the war most of her life, Shepard knew there was no going back to the status quo of pre-war humanity. The conflict had done so much, scared too deep that time would probably never heal fully. What took 400 years of exploration and colonisation was lost in a matter of a few decades. 800 worlds glassed in less than thirty years. That was basically a planet lost every fortnight.

Sitting in the waiting room, Shepard had her eyes focused on the news bulletin in front of her. In fact, even the secretary and the two guards behind him had their attentions glued to the screen as they watched the reporter explained what has happened in The Hague.

" _Prophet of Truth, the court finds you guilty of war crimes against humanity. We sentence you, to death."_

Shepard could feel a smile tugging at her lips, and took comfort in the fact that the Prophet's capture was due in no small part to her and those who served with her on that fateful day. The trial had been widely publicised, and opinions of it equally varied. The defence team for the Prophet had received anonymous death threats, while others took to the forums to congratulate humanity for being morally superior to grant the Prophet a trial.

That made Aubrie's stomach turn. Not the whole trial part, but the fact people were patting themselves on the back for something that had no part in. She hated that.

Realistically, the trial was a symbolic victory. That was what it was. From the start, everyone knew the Prophet was going to be found guilty and sentenced to death.

"You think they'll kill him now?" Miranda asked.

Aubrie shook her head.

"It'll look too suspicious if they clear the entire schedule for him," she answered.

"Commander Shepard," a voice interrupted.

It was an Air Force Second Lieutenant Eliza Martinez.

"General Keyes would like to see you now."

"Wish me luck," Aubrie said to Miranda as she got up.

The office's décor was much like the waiting room, or the entire building in general. They sported a very Spartan design of crème washed walls and dark oak furniture. Martinez turned and left the office, closing the door behind her. Charles was at his desk, looking like an overworked scientist. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, there was a cup of coffee in his hands, and he seemed to not care about following correct dress protocol. Though it was his office and this was his base so no one probably cared.

Opposite him was a woman, neatly dressed in the Navy Service Uniform. She seemed familiar.

"I'm sure you're already acquainted with Admiral al-Cygni," Keyes said, breaking her thought.

She did not expect Johnson's wife to be here.

"At ease, Commander," Jilan said neutrally, giving away nothing.

"Please sit down," Charles waved towards the available seats. "How's your shoulder?"

Aubrie took the seat.

"A bit stiff," she answered.

"I know this is a bit unconventional, but right now, the UNSC is short on ships and has officers in surplus," Charles began.

"We need more Intelligence Officers," al-Cygni finished.

As much as Shepard enjoyed being in command of a destroyer, she loved the idea of being able to work on the ground once more. In fact prior to the fall of Hampton in 2547, she served with NavSpec in counter-insurrection operations. After that, the Navy was just losing too many officers and so she spent the next year training to command a ship.

"Alright," she said. "I'm in."

A look of relief seemingly washed over Charles's face, but also one of concern as well.

"Very well, I'll give you a month of leave, and then you'll return here for your training."

…

 **1325 hours, December 28** **th** **, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Sydney, Australia**

The footage of humans and Elites marching the Prophet of Truth out of the _Shadow of Intent_ were seen across every planet or station still connected to Earth. The reruns were being played on every single news network, everyone hailing this capture that the end of the war was near.

Miranda ran her thumb along the rim of her coffee mug absently as she watched her brother's expression shift before her eyes. He seemed troubled and tired, as if the years of watching humanity being torn apart were beginning to weigh heavily on him.

"Nice place," she said, referring to the café.

"I try to come here once every week," Charleston answered. "The linguini here is quite nice."

"Mmm… could go for some right now actually."

"So why didn't you?"

"The ball… remember?"

"Oh… that… yeah. Sorry, must've slipped my mind," he said tiredly.

"Charles, what's going on?" she asked, leaning forward a little bit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a soft smile.

"Mum's alive."

"Mom? She's still?"

Charles nodded.

"When were you going to tell me this?" she hissed quietly.

"Well, it's not exactly public news," he countered. "Officially, she's still dead."

"Seriously? The hell's going on?" Miranda whispered.

Charles looked around and returned his attention back to her, releasing a sigh from his chest as he cupped his drink of gourmet soda.

"She's being tried for war crimes."

"War crimes?" Miranda hissed.

"Calm down," her brother gestured. "Look, I can't tell you what she did…"

"Did she drop a nuke or something?"

"No, nothing of the sort."

"Then why is she being charged as a war criminal?"

Charles looked away from her, and squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment.

"To be honest, I have no idea," he said hesitantly. "I don't think I'm supposed to know that mum's back."

"This is bullshit."

"I know. My boss isn't a big fan of hers."

Miranda arched an eyebrow, exasperated and disbelieving.

"I can talk to Hood," she suggested.

"No, don't," Charles shook his head. "I just need you to keep quiet about this. I'll call in a few favours."

…

 **Jan [something] 2553  
UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6  
Sydney, Australia**

Lieutenant General Charleston Keyes was now the Head of Section III – no longer acting – he had been voted in by High Command because he was the only person left capable of doing the job. Barely brushing the fourth decade of his life; he controlled the branch of Military Intelligence that was responsible for the research and acquisition of advance technology.

It was laughable really, if only it wasn't so tragic, all of his direct superiors had died in a span of a few months. The line of succession had become dangerously short, making him the only capable person left.

Rear Admiral Anna Greenfield remained as the Deputy Head, which was just fine by Keyes. At first their working relationship was purely cordial, but once they discovered their mutually shared loathing of Admiral Parangosky, Charles could say unequivocally that Anna had his trust and vice versa. He considered that an achievement since Greenfield had garnered a reputation of being paranoid to the level that Parangosky was.

Taking a seat at the U-shaped table, Keyes poured himself a glass of water and took a quick sip of the ice cold liquid before clasping his hands together. Musa-096 had called the meeting. Charles never liked the man, so full of moral conviction and hypocrisy that just seemed to grate on his nerves. In other words, Keyes viewed Musa as a _self-righteous prick_.

The dual metal doors opened, revealing the guards beyond and a frail wheelchair bound man – Commander Musa.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, thank you for having me here today," the washed out Spartan greeted.

Despite his polite tone, the hint of disgust was lurking just beneath.

"You made it sound like we didn't have much of a choice, Musa," Charles spoke out.

"I suppose I did… didn't I?"

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I've come to talk about the Spartans."

Vice Admiral Tim Richlig immediately stood up.

"I knew it," he growled. "This was a waste of time."

"Sit down, Admiral," Musa said. It sounded more like a command, than him trying to allay the anger. "And you will listen to what I have to say. You owe me that much, at least."

The Commander rolled his wheelchair closer.

"The original Spartans," he began. "Leonidas and his boys, I'm talking about here… they were taken from their families as children and trained as warriors. It's two thousand years since Thermopylae, and we're still talking about them, so maybe the Spartans did something right? Doctor Catherine Halsey thought so."

Musa's eyes locked onto Keyes's.

"She kidnapped children from their beds, stole them from their families and enlisted them in a life of servitude to the _UNSC_."

Charles felt like arguing, but decided against it. There was no point in arguing the finer details against someone scorned or viewed themselves as a victim. The complexities of the Spartan-II Program, what it did to his mother and those who signed on for the project, it was something constantly overlooked. But who was going to care about that little detail? His mother was the one responsible for developing the Program, and that was where she had wanted to leave it at. With him on the way, his mother didn't want to be a part of something that could take her away from her family.

Though in hindsight, he was probably the reason why his mother agreed to become the Program Lead, as a mother, Halsey would've felt an obligation to watch over the Spartan-IIs she had condemned to a life of war. The cost of the Program, what it did to her personally, few would understand, and fewer still would want to. People wanted a villain to take the fall for the lines cross it took to preserve humanity, and his mother fit the role perfectly.

"But you know that part," Musa continued. "Hell, it was people like you, sitting in a room like this that gave Catherine the power to assault the bodies, genetics and minds of innocent children. Who gave her the permission she needed to sentence me to a life of pain in this chair."

Keyes could see the crest fallen looks of the Security Committee. It wasn't even their generation that greenlighted the Program, but Musa's speech had managed to bring the weight of what predecessors had done, right on top of them. Rear Admiral Serin Osman and Admiral Margaret Parangosky seemed to nod in agreement, and that made Charles's skin crawl.

It was like Osman had been picked by Parangosky to spite Halsey. But what made it even worse; were the sheer gall and the hypocrisy that Margaret had to take the moral high ground. She was the one who had given the clear to Colonel Ackerson to start the Spartan-III Program – a program solely to produce expendable supersoldiers.

"Do you know how many children Catherine Halsey killed in her quest?" Musa questioned accusingly.

 _Quest_ , he made it sound like Keyes's mother took some sickening pleasure out of it, as if it was just a little science project for her.

"I do," Musa continued. "I know all of their names. Their faces haunt my dreams in ways I can only _hope_ they still haunt hers."

No doubts there. Halsey's actions showed an increasing desperation to save her Spartans from the war.

"Much as I may hate that woman, and rail against her crimes… it is my brothers and sisters who saved humanity. We would not be here were it not for Spartans. But since Reach fell, we have lost more of our guardians."

Charles clenched his jaw as Musa took pause.

"The Covenant has been kicked into submission, but already we hear of cultist leaders who gather followers. When those sects rise up, we must be prepared to face them."

Charles had read the reports; the Elites and the Brutes were locked in a brutal and vicious war. It seemed unlikely that any of them would be a threat in the immediate future. But the FIA had uncovered information about isolated Sangheili fleets, unscathed by the war and the Great Schism. They were the most likely threats, but with their brethren fighting the Brutes, Keyes doubted that they posed such a danger

Musa definitely knew how to sell his point though. And Keyes agreed. The UNSC needed more supersoldiers.

"And we know already that things are not well in our colonies. It is only a matter of time until the Insurrection rears its head once more."

The Insurrectionist threat, that was something undeniable; the war had fuelled their propaganda machine. Colonies that had been abandoned or evacuated were prime recruitment grounds. Though isolated, they needed to be dealt with quickly. Projection analysis did not bode well if the Insurrectionists managed to get their hands on Covenant weaponry.

"Musa… you have my sympathy…"

"No one needs your sympathy, Admiral," the Commander said flatly. "What we need is Spartans. So Keyes and I made some."

All eyes turned towards Keyes.

"When was this?" Hood asked.

"Before I took office," Charles answered. "I was actually part of the team that developed the augmentation procedure."

"Don't sell yourself short, General. You were the Lead Scientist on the project," Musa interjected.

And being the Lead Scientist meant that Keyes had a lot of freedoms which he used to the fullest. Of course, no one in this room needed to know.

Charles decided to be quiet about how Ilsa Zane was still at large and psychotically unstable. That dirty little secret about the Spartan-IV Program would come out at some other time – off the record of course.

…

 **1847 hours, January 24** **th** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Lockhart Medical Station**

"Corporal Palmer," the Doctor greeted.

He was a tall man; strong lean build with his black hair cut neatly, and brown eyes. Definitely had oriental descent in his blood, and coupled with his fair skin, he could be easily lost in a crowd. Easily able to just fade away in a sea of faces, but he also had an endearing quality.

His voice, with that rich timbre tone and posh accent of an English Earthborn Cosmopolitan, it would make plenty of girls swoon. And that made Sarah hate him already. Well, not entirely true, she wasn't big on people who took another eight years of schooling and thought they were better than her. True they could do calculus and figure out what was wrong with someone just by looking at them, but…

 _I'm the one that saves their asses when shit's hit the fan._

Still he tried to be nice. He was one of those types who just seemed to have an infinite level of patience and the kind of charisma that drew people to him, which meant he had something to hide. No one was that perfect. No doctor could still be _that_ cheerful after working in a field hospital.

Then again he seemed quite young, probably just freshly minted from some obscenely expensive medical school and private hospital back on Earth. That would explain his seemingly cheery disposition.

The name she saw on his tag was Craig Hennessey. He was the attending Doctor that had patched her up when they wheeled her in. He came buy often enough to run checks and make sure she was taking her meds. She wondered if he had a crush on her…

 _Persistent bastard._

"How are we today, Sarah?" he asked politely.

"Fine… pain's gone," she answered.

"Very good."

He entered something into his datapad.

"I'll give you the next set of antibiotics, just to stay on the safe side."

His phone began to buzz; she watched a frown crossed his features.

"Hennessey speaking," he answered.

The youthful glow seemed to fade away as his eyes hardened.

"I understand. Can I call you back? I'm with a patient."

Pocketing away the device, Charles returned his attention back to the monitors.

"Trouble, Craig?" Sarah asked. "Problem with the Missus?"

"What, that? No," Hennessey chuckled. "She's not my wife, or anything of the sort. Don't worry yourself about it."

"So… when am I getting out?"

"Well, if we have no problems tonight… then you'll be free to leave tomorrow morning. I'll just go get your meds."

Palmer watched Hennessey leave, his lab coat billowing behind him as he left through the doors and down the hall.

"She's all yours," he heard his voice ring out.

"Thank you, Doctor," another replied, though slightly accented.

Russian she guessed.

A man entered her room; he was tall, Asian ethnicity, bald, blue eyes and a tattoo of a fist holding arrows on his left cheek. Coupled with the black suit which probably costed more than what she would make in a month, Sarah had no idea what to make of him.

But he offered her something, something more valuable than all the money in existence… an experience of a lifetime; to become a Spartan.

"Corporal Palmer, do you have a moment to talk?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Sure, I'm not going anywhere right now."

"First of all, congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you."

"You did good work, saving the Admiral's life."

"Just doing my job," Sarah said with a shrug.

"You're recovering okay?"

"I'm guessing you already know the answer to that," Palmer said cautiously.

"Doctors say you follow their orders, you take your meds, you do your rehab, but you don't seem to respect them very much."

"Ahhh, you're a hospital admin, coming to chew me out for giving the Docs a hard time," she said knowingly.

"Hardly," he said with a light laugh. "I'm just wondering; why the sudden lack of respect for others? Your record shows no history of that kind of behaviour with your fellow marines or ODSTs."

"Soldiers don't act like they're smarter than me just because it took them eight years longer to get out of school."

Her _subtle_ remark didn't go unnoticed.

"I get it now."

"You do?" Sarah asked, surprised.

"Better than you might imagine, actually."

"Mister…?"

"Jun."

"Mister Jun…"

"No, just Jun."

"Oh, one name. Very enigmatic."

Definitely not a hospital Admin, Sarah's suspicions of him being a spook was practically confirmed at this point.

"Not really."

"I've been polite so far. So what do you want with me?"

"Are you familiar with the Spartans?" he asked.

"Big robot-looking guys. They stomp around the field, kicking everyone's ass and making the rest of us feel inadequate."

"Well, given the actions that landed you here, and your service record as a whole… how would you like to be one? A Spartan."

"Excuse me?"

…

 **1030hours, March 3** **rd** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Kenyan Savannah, near Mount Kilomanjaro**

The motorcade silently pulled up to the memorial where armed MPs stood in a defensive perimeter. A Marine Sergeant dressed in his dress whites opened the doors, allowing Charles to step out into the African sun.

Today was one of those rare occasions where Charles had to wear an Air Force Ceremonial Dress Uniform. It was similar to his standard Service Dress of a white shirt and tie. But there was the added cufflinks for the shirt, and the jacket came with a platinum trimmed belted onyx-black jacket, and a pair of gold oak leave chains that looped through the left epaulette. Coupled with the gold stripes on his cuffs and lapel, he stood out against the similarly dressed honour guard detail. The uniforms were beautifully woven, and somewhat archaic, harking back to an era where men were gentlemen first and soldiers second.

Armed with the M1 Garand Rifle, the guards fell into step with Charles as he walked down the aisle and took a turn on to the stand where all the other senior officers would be seated at.

He always preferred to arrive a fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but it seemed like Anna was already waiting for him. Scanning his eyes along the memorial, he could see a few more officers and servicemen from various branches on site. Another quarter hour passed and the entire Admiralty had arrived, as well as the honour guards and distinguished servicemen. Taking his allocated seat, Charles could see the camera crew preparing for the Presidential motorcade, as well as taking photos of the Arbiter and the _Shadow of Intent_.

The Sangheili ship held its distance, gliding peacefully above the ocean.

"President's here," Anna Greenfield whispered, pointing to the black motorcade.

"First time I've seen her in person," Keyes whispered back.

"Well, you're going to be seeing a lot more of her… or ODIN at least."

Camera drones floated into position as reporters prepared for their correspondence.

Finding his spot in the seating area, Keyes waited for the ceremony to begin.

…

"For us, the war is over, the storm has passed," Hood addressed the audience. "But let us not forget those who ventured into the howling night, never to return."

Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy was a rank John had held only for the past few days. It was more symbolic than anything, representative of the service he had done in order to protect humanity.

Charles had already given him the quick brief; after the ceremony was over; he was to be given an Officer Commission, probably either Commander or Captain. The remaining Spartan-IIs would be given a similar treatment. In Keyes's words, they were going to be interacting a lot more with the regular infantry, and the last thing he wanted was some egotistical inexperienced officer trying to pull rank.

John stood in the open air, his new insignia glistening against the black wool of his dress uniform. There had been controversy whether or not the Spartans should appear without armour or not, but Command eventually decided that they would attend in their dress blacks.

The sun was low over the horizon as a cool sea breeze flowed through. In unison, the honour guards from all branches stepped towards the edge of the platform.

"Ready!"

The guards stepped forward with their left foot.

"Aim!"

The rifles were shouldered, aiming at an elevated fifteen degree angle as the guards lowered their heads slightly.

"Fire!"

The rifles chorused in unison, echoing through the plains, and were then joined by cannons.

Lowering their weapons, the honour guards returned to their original position, and marched into centre stage. Bayonets flashed as they performed in sequence, heels clicked and guns clacked as gloved hands slammed against them, each branch in perfect synchronisation with one another.

When the display was over, a polite applause came from the crowd. The bugle played and a minute of silence followed.

Finally, the ceremony was over, and the guards returned to their original position. Picking up a small wreath of flowers, John cradled them with infinite care as he made his way towards the monument.

 _Dedicated to the memory of those who fell in the defence of Earth and her colonies,  
Their deeds undimmed by time,  
Their service unbound by death,  
May they rest in peace._

Setting it down at the base with the others, he rose back to full height and placed his gloved hands on the smooth surface. His head bowed as he closed his eyes, and then he pulled away, snapping a crisp salute before returning to his seat.

The war was officially over now. Mankind could finally breathe once more, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow would come in the wake of a new dawn.

…

" _When humans act with cruelty we characterise them as 'animals', yet the only animal that displays cruelty is humanity."  
_ _ **-Anthony Douglas Williams**_

…

 **Afterword**

Special thanks to Carleen for beta reading this chapter.


	4. Restitutions

**Foreword**

I take my time… I know. I would also like to add that I take figures provided by the universes' respective lore. Many people have contacted me over how overpowered they feel the Mass Effect universe is, and how nerfed the UNSC is. A Human-Covenant War Era UNSC ship cannot survive a direct hit from a Mass Effect ship, and likewise, the velocity of a MAC ground is more than enough to trigger a ME ship's shields. Furthermore, a lone UNSC frigate cannot neutralise a Reaper (unless we're going with the _Halo Encyclopaedia_ figures – which are insane).

An MA5 is not magnitudes more powerful than an M-6 Lancer or an M-8 Avenger. I'd say they are on par unless the mass effect guns have been calibrated to have the firepower equivalent of a 5.56x45mm NATO.

So, buckle up because this chapter is heavy universe building.

Also, assume that the time given at the beginning of each segment is relative to the actual location unless specified. Now why didn't I put UNSC Military Standard Time as the norm, and specify local time after? Waaay too much effort. I'm assuming MST is Greenwich standard time.

…

 **Restitutions**

…

" _We are no longer on the back foot, but we are not giants either. If the Covenant is a soldier with a knife, then humanity is a frail man holding a gun."  
_ _ **-Director Josiah Harper of FIA**_

…

 **1235 hours, March 4** **th** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

The room was sparse, and quiet. Once again, Parangosky had locked Doctor Catherine Elizabeth Halsey away to finalise additional design schematics for the _Infinity_. Catherine hated it here. She knew that officially, she was marked deceased on Reach, and unofficially she was going to be tried for war crimes. She could only scoff at the irony of how morally conscious Parangosky was trying to be. Trying, but probably failing. Catherine didn't believe that a woman like Parangosky would be _that_ morally upright. That just wasn't how ONI worked. Everything hinged on efficiency and optimisation, there was just no room for feelings.

Halsey had made the Spartan-IIs, and that was her legacy within ONI. She had created the guardians of humanity. Under the approval of Parangosky, Colonel Ackerson created a program to mass produce supersoldiers to be expendable.

The Admiral was doing everything in her power to smear Halsey. A woman like Parangosky didn't want history to see her as a monster – but history isn't supposed remember the leaders of espionage. Whatever the reason for Parangosky's personal vendetta, Halsey was imprisoned here, stuck, and unable to communicate to the outside world.

She wanted to contact her children; she wanted to know if her Spartans were still alive. But most of them were gone, half of them died in during the augmentations, and over the years the war began to take their toll. Reach was undoubtedly the worst military defeat in human history.

Taking a seat by the desk, Catherine turned on the modified computer. It was tethered to a port so it couldn't be used as a weapon, and that all data traffic would be monitored.

She hated it here, hated being treated like some sort of criminal.

Catherine knew what she did was unethical, but the moment nuclear weapons were involved, her sin was nothing compared to that of mass genocide. Unfortunately, humans were ruled by emotions and spurned on by sensationalism. No amount of numerically based justification would clear her. Parangosky wouldn't even need a kangaroo court to convict her.

Pulling the keyboard under her fingers, Catherine began to type in commands into the prompt. Schematics began to roll across the display. It seemed that the hangars used to carry the _Strident_ -class frigates were being scrapped, and instead replaced with combat drone bays.

A light knock at the door came from the doors.

 _Who knocks?_ She wondered.

The metal doors whispered open, and in entered a woman. She was above average height, had porcelain skin, dark brown hair and amber-coloured eyes, her facial features indicated that she was of Hispanic descent. As she stepped into the room, Halsey saw the insignia and the nametag.

 _Second Lieutenant Eliza Martinez._

Behind her was a man, taller than her by a full head and neck. Catherine didn't have to see the name tag to know who it was.

"Could you please give me a moment?" Charles asked Martinez.

"Of course sir."

The Lieutenant quickly turned around and left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Charles took a few more steps into the room as Halsey pulled herself to her feet. He was a Lieutenant General, too young to be in that position in her opinion.

"How did you…"

"…Get clearance?" Charles interjected. "I have the authority."

"You're circumventing _her_ authority though," Catherine said, worriedly.

Her son gave a tired smile.

"I'm not though. I am breaking no regulations. My presence here is completely justifiable."

Halsey glanced worriedly up to the corner of the wall where a camera would be.

"Don't worry about me. I've got it handled. If Parangosky steps out of line, ODIN will intervene. War's over, ONI is bounded by regulations and watchdogs."

Catherine frowned, still unconvinced. For nearly thirty years, ONI had operated without anyone questioning the organisation's methods or motives.

"Senators have been pushing for reforms," Charles continued. "People didn't like how ONI was operating, _and_ someone may have leaked finances."

Halsey arched an eyebrow.

"Just know I'm doing everything I can to get you out."

"Don't focus on me too much, or you'll lose your job."

"You worry too much."

"I'm your mother."

Catherine stepped closer to her son, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. She felt his muscles stiffen and tense for a moment before relaxing slightly and returning the hug. She never spent enough time with him when he was still a child, and still he was coming to her aid. In her eyes, she didn't deserve a son like him.

She'd ask him to leave ONI, but if he was anything like her or his father, he'd stay on course even if it meant dying in flames. All she could do; was hope for the best.

"Just hold on a little longer," he said.

She could wait; wait for another ten years even. Her children and her Spartans were still alive, and the war was over. They were safe. Her freedom can wait.

…

 _ **-Email Archive-**_

 _ **Subject:**_ _Project Supremacy  
_ _ **To:**_ _UNSCHighCom  
_ _ **From:**_ _Charleston R.E. Keyes_

 _With the upcoming commissioning of the UNSC_ Infinity _, I fully recommend that we postpone the commencement of Project_ Supremacy _, and instead focus on building more destroyers and frigates to patrol our territories._

 _Kind regards,_

 _LTG Charleston R.E. Keyes  
Head of ONI Section III_

…

 **1323 hours, March 10** **th** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
The Daniel Hargreaves Centre for Military Intelligence Research (ONI Section III HQ)  
New South Wales, Australia**

False modesty or false self-assessment aside, John knew exactly who he was and how he came to be. He wasn't naïve, and he wasn't stunted or socially impaired as some liked to believe. He knew exactly what he was, and what he was trained for. What happened to him, to his brothers and sisters was unethical, immoral, but necessary. He had come to accept that a long time ago.

" _We can care deeply, selflessly for those who we love but rarely does that empathy extend beyond our line of sight."_

Those were the words that drove the policymakers to their decision.

It was necessary for the stability of the human territories and more importantly, the survival of the human species. For that he understood, accepted and forgave. If it weren't for the actions of Doctor Halsey, he'd be another statistic in a sea of billions.

The room was nicely decorated, bearing more similarities to a lawyer's office rather than the minimalistic design of ONI. John ran his palm along the rich leather of the armchair as the servos adjusted to his large build. The door opened, and just when he was going to stand, Keyes called out.

"Please, sit," the General said.

He walked to the other armchair and sat down across from the Chief.

"I do apologise, it's a bit informal but, after everything that's happened, I think it would be a nice change of scenery," he said.

"Thank you, sir," John said curtly.

"Well, I just ran things through with the higher ups, and we'd like to offer you the rank of Captain."

John quickly reigning in his expression, giving away nothing.

"That's a big leap, sir," he said.

"Not really," Keyes countered with a kind smile. "You're more than capable. It'll be useful when you lead a Task Force."

That got his attention.

"Sir?"

"Off the record, we've been hearing whispers in deep space. When the time comes – and it'll be soon – we'll need our best."

John paused for a moment.

"I understand, sir," he said.

"Now – hmmm – Hood wanted me to tell you that, if you want, you are more than welcome to retire or take long service leave."

John shook his head.

"This is all I know," he said.

A slightly pained expression washed over Keyes's wearied features, as if those words hit a little too close to home.

"Of course," he said, and cleared his throat. "Well, you'll need to attend a few refresher and specialisation courses, just to make sure you're on top of things."

"Exams?" John asked apprehensively.

"Exams and courses, full package," Keyes answered.

"When do I start?"

"In a week," Charles said, presenting a paper file.

John accepted it graciously, and flipped the cover open.

"Captain John Alexander Norward," the Chief read.

"It's your _new_ profile."

The subtle emphasis on "new" was not missed. Throughout the war, the Spartans had gained a legendary reputation of turning the tide of battle single handed. Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy John-117 is the name and title of the most revered human in modern history. People see him as the paragon guardian that pulled humanity bank from the brink of extinction. But there were things the Master Chief could not do, and that was to fulfil his original purpose.

John knew that the war wasn't over, and sooner or later, the insurrectionists down spin the Orion Arm from Earth would rise once more. As much as it would pain him to take up arms against fellow human beings, he'd be damned if he let them destroy the status quo that he and countless others fought so hard to protect.

"Your new uniform is in fitting room six," Keyes added.

The Chief looked up to the General, gave a polite nod and stood up from his seat.

"When you're done, meet up with Blue and head into town. There's a nice Greek restaurant that just opened."

"Will do sir."

…

 **-Article Extract-**

 _ **The Daily Globe  
April 2**_ _ **nd**_ _ **2553  
Are we really safe?  
-Ezra Walker**_

… _With the war having officially declared over and the Prophet of Truth executed by Sangheili and UEG authorities, humanity can finally breathe. But critics say otherwise. Staggering casualty reports are being broadcasted into all known corners of the human empire, revealing just how close mankind was to becoming extinct._

 _Preliminary reports suggests that up spin the Orion Arm from Earth, most if not all of the Outer Colonies and Middle Colonies have been completely destroyed, while dozens of Inner Colonies have suffered immense damage. Furthermore, the Covenant factions are now warring amongst themselves, with the Sangheili led Separatists intent on destroying the Loyalists. UEG Senators are hesitant to send the Sangheili any form of aid, while UNSC leadership say otherwise._

 _A statement from Admiral Terrence Hood states that the continual survival of the human species is dependent on the outcome of the Covenant civil war._

 _Senator Emilio Trucci countered this by pointing out that the Insurrectionist threat down spin of the Orion Arm remains prevalent. He continues on that precious remaining UNSC resources should be sent to ensure the continual stability of those regions._

 _Even more disturbing are the reports of a new species known as the batarians. Details have been scarce, but so far there are no connections to the Covenant. Colonies downspin from Earth are told to remain vigilant…_

…

 **01030 hours, April 15** **th** **, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
En route to the Daniel Hargreaves Centre for Military Intelligence Research (ONI Section III HQ)  
New South Wales, Australia**

ONI never cut corners when it came to work efficiency and safety, personnel always received the best hardware and compliments to provide the best for as long as possible. Transportation was no exception either as Keyes had learned. In the city, Charles would be chauffeured in a limousine due to their relatively incognito nature, and aptness for state affairs. However, when it came to day to day use when he had to be moved from the city and into the rural areas, protocol dictated that Keyes had to be moved in an armoured SUV with inconspicuous security escort. Although the aesthetics of an SUV didn't suit Charles's tastes, the practicality and greater ride height of the vehicle more than made up for it, especially since he had far more room in the back seat to do work.

"So no relations?" Keyes asked.

" _No,"_ Doctor Conrad Verner replied through the teleconference. _"We've scoured the databanks, and nothing. Nothing about the Forerunner physiology."_

"The Ark was damaged," Charles mused. "Is it possible that the data could've been corrupted?"

" _Maybe," Verner answered with a shrug. "This tech is so advanced that our computers are like pocket calculators. We don't know if the data is corrupted. We're looking at apex hardware; you can't get anything better without breaking known laws of physics."_

"Alright," Keyes sighed, rubbing his chin.

" _The Forerunner AI fragment recovered from the Dreadnought has provided enough information as possible. The Ark's AI just says nothing is there. It's like their memories were wiped, or restricted from accessing archives."_

"How're the repairs going?" Charles asked tiredly, changing the subject.

" _At this rate_ , _we're looking at least a year until one of the foundries here can be used. Around five years until all systems operational."_

Charles let out a tired sigh.

The vast majority of the outer and mid colonies up spin in the Orion Arm from Earth were lost, in terms of economics, the UEG revenue had undoubtedly suffered, there was no gigantic financial crisis looming over the horizon. Inner Colonies were the real financial power hubs.

Whether it was intentional or not, most major systems were compartmentalised. In the event one colony was lost, its impact on trade was "minimal to moderate". It was by this design that the UNSC didn't enter a depression throughout the course of the war. There was definitely a miss conception that the Inner Colonies heavily relied on the Outer Colonies for minerals. Mining operations within Inner Colonies' asteroid fields were more than sufficient to meet with demands. It was the food shortages were a real concern.

When Reach a half a dozen other Inner Colonies were attacked by the Covenant that was when the tremors were truly felt. Corporations were still licking their wounds, and public distrust of the UNSC was at an all-time high. The UEG, intent on showing the remaining territories that they were in control once more, lifted censorships piece by piece, and that was when the ugly truths came out. ONI had said that the UNSC was holding its ground, but the reality was far from that. Financial reports, casualty estimates, all of it painted an ugly reality of humanity teetering on the edge of extinction.

As advanced as the technology the UNSC had at its finger tips, the production infrastructure just couldn't keep up. Newer shipyards were being built, while companies were being contracted to build high end hardware, but there was still a way to go left.

Economics was not really Keyes's forte, but since his work focused primarily on the research and development of advance technology, he had a vested interest on when such equipment could be fielded. After all, the Covenant may no longer be a threat, but they were far from beaten into submission, and the UEG was still weak. The loss of 23 billion people is something to be felt for the centuries to come.

UEG and UNSC Leadership hoped that the Ark would be stable enough to establish a permanent colony there, and utilise the installation as an agricultural and industrial colony. The work force that those facilities had would provide an unprecedented amount of equipment and resources for a very small cost. Careful planning and regulation would be needed to ensure that the Ark does not throw the economy into an imbalance. But, none of that mattered since the Ark was still heavily damaged.

Until the Ark's foundries could be repaired, Operation Providence would be restricted to providing raw materials and foodstuffs.

Pressing the COMs button in his earpiece, Keyes opened an encrypted channel to his AI Cooper. Technically the AI wasn't the same one as the one on Reach. Most of the hardware for _that_ Cooper had been destroyed. But the core programming data crystals had been saved during the evacuation.

"Where are we on Project EDI?" Charles asked.

His eyes fell onto a monitor, displaying a rerun of the celebrating populations when the Prophet of Truth had been executed.

"Minimal progress so far, sir," Cooper answered.

Keyes stifled a yawn, holding a fist close to his mouth.

"Sir, might I suggest rest?"

"No you may not," Charles said tiredly. "I got to call Green."

"Admiral Greenfield is waiting for you at the facility, you can talk to her then," the Cooper insisted.

Heaving a sigh from his chest, Keyes gave into the AI's demands.

"Does your concern stem from programming? Or…"

"I'm generally a nice guy," Cooper said cheerily. "My concern is out of the goodness of my heart."

"Gotcha… Okay, call me if it's urgent then."

Setting the seat into a recliner, Keyes closed his eyes a drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

…

 _ **-Article Extract-**_

 _ **Mass Effect Physics in Weapons  
ONI Section III, Echo-Five Cell  
July 17**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2555**_

 _Mass effect can be described as a loophole in physics. It does not violate any principles, but in fact, bends them. Weapons obtained from batarians revealed that projectiles are made by shaving grain sized pieces of metal from an internal block; the slug is then accelerated by mass effect fields, which apparently decreases the weight of the grain thus allowing it to be accelerated to higher velocities. The grain sized rounds themselves are designed to squash or shatter on impact to impart maximal energy into the target, otherwise they would just simply be "slipping" through._

 _By reducing the mass of the slug, there would be less kinetic energy imparted onto the target. However, by reducing the mass of the slug, it could be accelerated exponentially. This is the key. In accordance to the kinetic energy formula, kinetic energy is half of the mass multiplied by velocity squared. Velocity squared is the crux of the formula, and the core of the principle of the weapon itself._

 _Combining the principles of mass effect technology with Forerunner technology (efficiency of Forerunner derived alloys) allows weapons to have greater firepower and longevity with the added benefit of utilising specialised rounds for greater effect._

 _Because of the size of other technologies in the weapon frame, weapon designers are recommended to use limited ammunition. The drawbacks of grain sized rounds is that even though they are designed to shatter or squash on impact, their target area is still incredibly small thus requiring centre mass shots for full lethality. Furthermore, having the weapon manufacture the slugs will add unnecessary weight and space which could be better purposed for heat sinks and power sources._

 _One flaw of batarian assault rifles is that they are prone to overheating, and require time to cool down. This can result in lack of firepower on the battlefield, thus tactical defeat. However, if used conservatively, a batarian combatant could fire indefinitely (until the metal block housed within is depleted)._

 _Other limiting factors to mass effect weaponry are:_

 _Newton's Third Law, in essence, to accelerate a grain sized round to have the same kinetic energy as a , the recoil of the weapon_ _ **will**_ _be equivalent to a ._

 _Magnetic saturation; this is limiting factor for all magnetically accelerated technology. Mass effect fields circumvents this issue by reducing the weight of the round. Magnetic saturation remains the same, but the reduced weight allows for faster acceleration and overall greater velocity._

…

 **1750 hours, December 5** **th** **, 2555 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
1930 hours (Military Standard Time)  
Tirith City, Elano 13 Region, Mindoir, Skyllian Verge – downspin from Earth**

…

Being an Intelligence Officer was nowhere near as "glamorous" and "hectic" as the films made it out to be. It was certainly far more stressful than anything Shepard could've anticipated, but those tense moments quickly gave way to a numbing dread and anxiousness that she grew to accept.

Ever since the Human-Covenant War had ended – technically it was still ongoing since no official treaty was signed – she had spent a year in training. She took classes ranging from advance combat training, to acting classes. Even singing was thrown into the course when ONI learned that she was part of the school choir. No stone left unturned.

Leaning on her elbows, she ran her thumb along the rim of her whiskey glass, blending in with the crowd around her. For the past three months, she visited this bar three times a week. It was slightly dingy and a bit on the rundown side, but that was probably its charm – having that whole western vibe going for it.

Everyone who was in this bar was probably in their late teens to mid-twenties, making her by far the oldest person at the venue. Of course a bit of makeup and a slight musing of hair seemed to shave off years. Patrons were eying her, running their eyes along her hidden form.

Aubrie wore formfitting pants with knee high boots, with an unbuttoned blouse over her t-shirt as per norm of the people on this planet. It made her extremely grateful that she hadn't been posted at some stock exchange in the Inner Colonies, where she would need thirty different outfits just for one week. And another bonus was that she was wearing armour under her shirt, and a pistol tucked in a shoulder holster.

Blinking tiredly, she silently cursed the HUD contact lenses in her eyes. She much preferred regular AR glasses with their greater processing powers and longer battery life. Scanning the crowd once more, she panned her eyes across the throng of people huddled near the stage.

"I'd like to dedicate this next song," the singer said. "To that lovely brunette at the bar."

Pretending to be bashful, Aubrie gave a soft smile and averted her gaze away from the stage.

The band began to play, and Shepard was nowhere close to finding her target.

 _Where you at, Paul_? She wondered silently.

Paul Talecki was the Insurrectionist recruiter in Tirith. That being said, Tirith wasn't a large city, with only a population of just over three hundred thousand. Most of the people on Mindoir were farmers, fisherman or miners. On the human development index, Mindoir had a high standard of living, with one of the largest middle classes in the Outer Colonies downspin from Earth. But it was also a hotspot for Insurrectionist recruitment.

Many people believed that those who joined the Insurrection were from impoverished backgrounds, but the majority of fighters came from middle class backgrounds. The Insurrectionist movement offered their recruits something the UEG struggled to, and that was a sense of purpose. Mindoir's distance from the Inner Colonies, relatively high standard of living but lack of a prosperous and "fun" future made it perfect to find the disenfranchised.

"My brother was deployed to Lancashire," said a woman.

"Same," added another.

"Well, my sister is somewhere up-spin fighting the Covies."

Aubrie could hear the frustration in their voices. A declaration of the cease in hostilities would imply that the soldiers could go home. But that wasn't the case.

"I bet they're being used as fodder," the first one hissed quietly.

"What do you mean?" the second asked in horror.

"It's obvious isn't it? They're not inner…"

Just as she was about to order another drink, the sirens began to blare. Hot pinpricks ran down her spine. She knew that blare all too well. Patrons stood in shock, confused.

"All right, everybody, please leave in an orderly fashion!" a bouncer commanded.

Aubrie swore silently. She needed to get to her SUV.

Standing up from her stool, she quickly strode towards the doors. People were whispering, murmuring. Some were in disbelief. The Covenant was warring amongst themselves up-spin from Earth. Mindoir is an Outer Colony downspin from Earth – virtually on the outer rim of the Milky Way.

Shepard knew it wasn't the Covenant. It had to be the batarians – the worst kept secret in the upper echelons of authority. The existence of batarians wasn't classified, but the people were scared enough and at the same time, weary of lies. Distrust was the last thing the UEG wanted, but whether the people of Mindoir trusted the UEG or not was irrelevant if reinforcements didn't arrive soon.

Breaking past the door line, Aubrie dug her heels into the pavement and sprinted down the boulevard. She heard the distant echoes of guns, and felt the ground shake. Aubrie swung around the corner at vaulted over a parked sedan as she dashed towards her car.

Recognising her ID key, the vehicle unlocked itself, allowing her access to the emergency armoury that was in the boot. She pulled the hatch open and lifted the floor board. Punching in the keys to the locker, Aubrie retrieved an armoured vest, support webbing, and an M7S.

She then slammed the hatch shut and entered the driver's seat. Gunning the engines, the SUV leapt forward, tires screeching against the asphalt. The vehicle barrelled across the carpark, shattering the wooden barricades as it launched itself onto the road.

In an invasion like this, there's a golden window of opportunity for vehicles, once it was gone, being inside a civilian car was a death trap. They were bullet magnets, and had no armour.

" _This is the Emergency Broadcast System. If you are hearing this, disperse immediately. Do not congregate. Disperse immediately into the woodlands. Hostile entities have neutralised evacuation centres."_

Aubrie swerved the car violently around crashed vehicles. Other drivers weren't so skilled, slamming their cars into others or pedestrians. Turning off of the avenue and into an alleyway, Shepard pushed the car out onto another boulevard, and followed it down to the main bridge. She silently thanked the stars that Tirith was not a metropolitan like New Mombasa.

Everyone was heading towards Fort Soko, the UNSC Garrison HQ – but Shepard new better. The moment the base's anti-air guns opened fire, it had marked itself for destruction.

"Shit!" Aubrie hissed, wrenching the wheel.

The SUV swerved violently as she forced it onto the embankment, narrowly avoiding a speeding minivan – going on the wrong side of the road. Seconds later, the ground shook violently, followed by an ear shattering explosion. Windows broke, raining down shards of glass on those out in the open. Drivers panicked, crashing into one another. Looking in her rear view mirrors, Aubrie saw the tidal wave of smoke and dirt engulfing the streets.

Fort Soko was gone.

A dull thump brought Shepard back to reality. She turned to see a teenaged boy slapping his hands on the cracked side windows. His face was filled with fear, blood spilling out of his left ear.

Shepard hit the unlock button and gestured for the back seat.

"Thank you," he choked.

"Don't thank me yet," Aubrie said quietly.

Reversing off the embankment, Shepard sped the SUV down the boulevard, foglights cutting through the smoke and dirt. Crossing the bridge, Aubrie noticed the civilians turning around and following her direction.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Daniel," he answered, voice wavering.

He was no older than sixteen.

"I'm Aubrie," Shepard said.

"Are you in the militia?"

"No, FIS," Aubrie lied.

Well half lie, she had access to the local FIS resources, but she didn't go through the Academy.

"That explains it," he stuttered. "What's going to happen now?"

"We run, and you follow my lead."

Daniel fell silent.

"Oh god… my family," he clutched his head.

Shepard steeled herself.

"There's nothing we can do," she said gently.

Daniel nodded, understanding the harsh reality.

Reaching the other side of the bridge, the SUV left the dust cloud and entered the civil administration district. Here was where all the UEG Admin buildings were based, away from the CBD. The campuses were bigger, and there were far more greenery. A perfect place to hold out and wait. Passing the Federal Investigations Service office building, Aubrie turned off the avenue and into the guest car park.

"Shouldn't we be going to the forests?" Daniel asked.

Aubrie turned off the engines.

"No," she shook her head, getting out of the vehicle. "Look at the skies."

Daniel's face paled. Hundreds of landing vessels dropped through the clouds.

"The batarians are heading into the woodlands to round up everyone," Aubrie explained. "And everyone running into the forests won't have supplies."

"A death sentence," Daniel figured.

"Yes. We stay here, and scavenge."

Keeping under the cover of trees, the two reached the back entrance. Aubrie ushered Daniel into an alcove for safety as she fished out her keycard, and swiped it against the lock. A side panel then revealed a console, prompting her to enter her service number.

In the event of an emergency, UNSC personnel could use their service number to gain access into Federal buildings. It wasn't entirely fool proof as Insurrectionist sympathisers used the opportunity to raid weapons stash from SWAT armouries, or gain access into personal records – but it had saved countless lives.

Aubrie led Daniel inside the building, where she held a finger up to her lips, gesturing for him to remain silent. She raised her weapon, sweeping back and forth as she paced forward slowly. Everything was quiet, almost abandoned. The regular lights were out, only the emergency chemical lights were on.

The ground shook again, another bombardment. Suddenly Aubrie began to question if coming to this building was a wise decision. But the batarians wouldn't know about the Federal Departments – wouldn't they?

Slinking along the walls, Shepard kept her SMG levelled as they entered the main foyer,

"Identify!" an aged male voice bellowed.

"Liaison Officer Aubrie Gunn!" Shepard replied.

"Hold your fire, three coming out."

The FIS Agents emerged, all wearing full SWAT gear. The lead Agent's face came into view as he stepped out from the shadows. Shepard barely recognised him without the Sweet William Cigar.

"Gunn, good to see you again," Special Agent Avery Johnson winked. "These boys here are Hamm and Templin."

"Ma'am," they nodded.

"Gentleman," Shepard replied.

Hamm and Templin were probably fresh from the Academy, Shepard pegged the two men's age at around late twenties or early thirties.

"Thought you'd guys be gone by now," Aubrie commented, keeping Daniel close.

"Skeleton crews still here. Haven't heard from anyone else, and we still haven't got DAD on the horn."

"Who's calling the shots then?"

"SAC Walters," Avery answered. "Shut everything down, then leave with the guns."

"What about the people?" Daniel asked desperately.

The retired Marine took pause.

"When we're armed up, we'll create a rear guard, buy everyone some time."

The answer seemed to satisfy Daniel, but not enough to null his dread.

Johnson led Daniel and Shepard down to the lower levels, while Hamm and Templin remained behind. As they moved deeper into the complex, they began to encounter more Agents. Only a small number were kitted out in SWAT gear, while the rest wore heavy armoured vests.

Passing one of the tactical map feeds, Shepard could see the flocks of civilians dispersing into the forests that surrounded the city. Fort Soko was in ruins, and the local airport was littered with burning ships.

 _Fump!_

A dull explosion rocked the building.

"What? Hamm! Hamm! Dammit. Batarians have breached the foyer."

Special Agent in Charge Walters quickly sprung to action.

"Granger, make sure the techies purge the data," the woman ordered. "Everyone else push to the exits!"

Shepard quickly turned to Daniel and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Stay close to me," she said. "Okay?"

"Okay," the boy nodded.

"Johnson, we need a vest for him."

Avery frowned and shook his head.

"We're out," he said. "Just stay behind us kid, and move when we tell you to."

Readying her weapon, Shepard flicked the safeties off, and fell in behind the SWAT team that took point. A quick jog up the stairwells, and the group joined another SWAT team at the ground floor, together they moved towards the foyer. Gunfire echoed through the halls, another team was already engaging.

They rounded a corner and took a knee at the section entrance. Aubrie could see the sparks and dirt showering the foyer floor from her position. A SWAT team was engaging batarians from behind the security desk and checkpoint.

"Wills, Trawlton, to the door," Johnson barked, shouting over the gunfire.

Weapons chattered, spewing rounds into the air. Bullets hissed passed the doorway, splintering the timber before shattering against the armoured plates within.

"Stay here!" Shepard shouted, pushing Daniel into a cubicle.

She let the other Agents clear the doors before moving out into the hallway and taking cover in an elevator alcove. The batarians fired on the Agents. Bullet resistant glass shattered in an ablative manner, directing the force of the bullet away from the Agents.

Aubrie raised her weapon and lined up her sights onto the head of a batarian encased in glowing armour. She never saw something so impractical in her life. Squeezing the trigger, she saw the shields flash as it deflected the rounds. Shepard kept her bead and fired in quick bursts. Armour piercing rounds hissed out of the barrel and slammed into the target, overwhelming the shields and then drilling into the plates.

The batarian quickly dove back into cover.

"Fucker," Shepard growled.

Slapping another clip into her weapon, she sprayed the entire batarian formation, suppressing them. It would've worked – had they not had shields.

Agents retreated back into cover to reload. Their armour was holding out, but Shepard didn't know how long. Ceramic plates degrade after repeated hits. SWAT officers had to be light, and they would never be deployed in scenarios where a prolonged engagement was to be expected.

"Cover your eyes!" Johnson barked. "Flash out!"

Aubrie flattened herself against the alcove the moment she saw a half dozen canisters sail through the air.

 _Thump-thump-thump-thump!_

The grenades went off in quick succession.

"Concentrate fire left!"

The Agents rose from cover and turned their MA5s left – where the orange armoured batarian was. The synchronised chorus was deafening, the standard FMJs shredded the couches and overwhelmed the shields. Aubrie leaned out of the alcove and fired, her 7mm rounds scoring a hit on the neck. With his spinal cords severed, the batarian fell back dead, his blood oozing out onto the marble floor.

Undeterred, the batarians renewed their advance.

"Incoming!" an Agent cried.

It was too late. The missile streaked in from the entrance and struck the wall behind the desk. The Agents screamed and pain as the flames licked at their exposed flesh.

"They're using incendiaries! Everyone, fall back!" Johnson bellowed.

The Agents soon fell silently, lying still while smoke still curled up from their charred bodies.

Another rocket exploded against the desk, showering the lobby with chunks of concrete, rock and sparks. Shepard leaned out of cover again, lining up on another batarian. She barely felt the SMG kick as she held a steady stream of rounds into the combatant. But like the first one, the soldier took cover giving Shepard a brief window of opportunity.

She pushed off and vaulted back around the corner. A sharp fiery sensation slashed across her upper left arm, a gigantic spike had grazed her and embedded itself into a wall. Shepard dove for cover immediately, just as a bullet nipped her thigh. Scrambling back to her feet, she fired back and took a left down the hall, linking up with Johnson and the survivors.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Shepard nodded.

Aubrie grabbed Daniel by the arm, and pulled him in front of her.

The Agents began leap frogging their way back into the building, but the batarians didn't follow.

"What's the situation?" Johnson radioed.

Aubrie watched as a grim frown set into Avery's features.

"Copy that," Avery then faced the Agents. "We're buggin' out."

 **-Article Extract-**

 _ **MA6  
Mirisah Armouries  
Military Engineering Expo**_

 _Taking into account the Defence Research reports and demands by combat personnel, Mirisah Armouries offers the MA6 family of assault rifles for testing._

 _Ammunition_

 _Going off the principle that the ammunition should be as small but effective as possible, we have developed the ammo-block. Each projectile itself is a few times larger than the average batarian slug, but is ultimately far more stable in flight and can impart more kinetic energy into a target. These fin-stabilisers also act as miniature struts which help the shaver module feed the rounds into the weapon. These premade rounds save the weapon from having a bullet shaping module – but at the cost of capacity. However, this can be easily overlooked as an ammo-block can provide hundreds of rounds._

 _Various types of ammo-blocks have been created, each varying in different sizes to suit different applications. Shatter rounds are larger than the standard blocks; they are designed to inflict maximum damage onto soft targets without over penetrating._

 _The receiver unit of the MA6 has a universal design, allowing it to accept rounds that are up to 1cm in width by 7cm in length. These rounds are designed for the express purpose of stealth operations – by being accelerated to subsonic speeds. However, if the user chooses to fire them at supersonic speeds – full safety gear is strongly recommended. The recoil and sound produced is enough to cause the user harm._

 _Accessories_

 _Taking a more streamlined design, the MA6 features universal rails for attachments, and will come with a SOPMOD kit._

 _Additional features_

 _Titanium composite structure to resist shock force in the event that an MA6 is used as a melee weapon, internal components will be protected and the weapon will continue to remain functional._

 _EMP hardened – the MA6 relies primarily on electronics which makes it susceptible to EMP weaponry._

…

 **0100 hours (Military Standard Time), December 7** **th** **, 2555 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Aboard UNSC **_**Sahara**_ **-class heavy Prowler** _ **Memoir**_

" _Blue team, this is Fortress, how copy?"_ al-Cygni announced over the COMs.

"Blue team copies," John replied.

" _Captain, your team is being rerouted to Tirith, Mindoir. Batarians have made landfall and subjugated the planet. Your mission is to disrupt batarian operations and gain whatever intel you can. Be advised, we have an operative on the ground at Tirith. Alias is Aubrie Gunn, challenge ID is wolfram and response is beaker."_

"Acknowledged. We'll handle it from here."

" _Good. Carrier Strike Group Four will reinforce you within five hours, Fortress out."_

"Guess shore leave's going to have to wait," Kelly muttered.

"There's always next time," Fred shrugged as he brought up general information of Mindoir.

Tirith was perched up on a plateau amongst a mountain range of forested woodlands, which seems to be consistent with most other cities and towns on Mindoir. However most of the populations were in mining and farming settlements.

Moving towards one of the gun racks, John pulled an MA5D Chemically Injected Railgun – designed to fire the standard NATO 7.62x51mm round – from its port and placed it onto the table. He stripped away the regular matte grey casing, and attached one with forest camouflage, before slipping on the required attachments.

John turned backed to the weapons locker again, and retrieved an ARC 920A2 rifle. So far, its 15 round magazine of .408 calibre sabot rounds could bring down a pack of heavily armoured Brutes in quick succession. Despite the weapon's overall power and range, it was not a stealthy option and should only be used as a last resort. Thus Linda and Fred packed the 99 Series 5 with a suppressor to compliment the massive firepower John and Kelly would being bringing with their ARCs.

"Cortana, systems check," John requested.

"You're all good, systems green," the AI responded.

Satisfied that the weapons and armour would blend, the Spartans pulled on their gear and headed down into the hangar.

"Aubrie Gunn," Kelly pondered. "Sounds like a merc in a b-grade flick."

"I don't think they were being creative," John commented.

"Alice Gray?" Fred suggested. "Generic, but it works."

Kelly tilted her head and gave a slight nod.

Clambering aboard the Raven Stealth Dropship, the Spartans closed the hatch and strapped themselves in.

"Cortez, we're in. Take us out," the Chief barked.

"Aye, Skipper."

The Raven rumbled beneath him as its engines flared to life. Guiding it out of the bay, Cortez threw the dropship into a dive straight for the planet.

"Cortana, picking up any chatter?" the Chief asked.

"I'm just getting loops," the AI answered. "Fort Soko and Ural has been destroyed with most of the Garrison. Remaining forces are sending SOS and bouncing signals, it'll be hard to get a position. As for our Ms Aubrie Gunn, last known location was in Tirith. And, the only available assets in Tirith are the local FIS Office there."

"What about the Garrison Fort?

"Gone."

"Cortez, I want a drop at this location," John said via the intercoms.

"Aye, sir."

Looking at the camera displays, John could see dozens of batarian warships in orbit, receiving smaller vessels. Based on reports from teams operating downspin from Earth, batarians liked to capture humans to be used as slaves – no different from the Jackals.

"Batarian forces are larger than usual," Cortana commented.

"They're not in hurry to bail, either," Kelly added.

"Could be an invasion force," the AI continued. "But that doesn't make any sense."

"This makes things harder," Linda frowned.

"We link up with Gunn, rally the survivors and wait for back up," John said, pulling focus. "We do that, we might get some intel."

The problem with fighting batarians was because of their greater naval strength. They used mass effect technology; thus their effective engagement range far outclassed that of standard UNSC ships, since their rounds travelled at a much greater velocity. Intel was virtually impossible to gain since most of those captured were just grunts, and their ships usually left at the first sign of trouble.

But now was the UNSC's chance to crack the black box. John hoped to be on the ground and hijack an enemy vessel. With Cortana's help, Blue team should be able to infiltrate one of the ships and take control – just like he did with _Ascendant Justice_.

The dropship shuddered as it entered the atmosphere. Slowly and carefully, Cortez guided the craft onto a smooth approach angle. John felt the tug of g-forces as the dropship banked to the left. He looked out the window and saw the burning ruins of Tirith coming into view.

There was a dirty haze casted over the city, the small metropolitan area was shattered, and the civil administration district looked the worse for wear. As the Raven flew over the city, the Spartan saw countless dead strewn in the street, while batarian dropships flew by, dropping troops off and unaware of the Raven.

" _Coming up to the insertion point,"_ Cortez announced. _"Be ready in five."_

Giving their weapons one last look over, the Spartans released the seat harness, and stood ready at the rear doors. The quiet hum of the engines filled the cabin as the ground grew larger in the viewport.

"Ready?" John asked.

"Ready," his team answered.

The lights flashed green and the doors blew open. Blue team quickly stormed down the ramp and fanned out on the grass. Behind them, the Raven's doors shut, and the dropship lifted off as the active camouflage kicked back in.

John had chosen for the dropship to land on a cleared out saddle between to hills – or mountains, to give them cover amongst the trees but also allow them a good vantage point from the summit.

Like Cortana had said, Fort Soko was gone, and with it the entire eastern section of the CBD. If the reports on batarian raids were to be believed, this type of sheer destruction was not their usual objective.

"Civil Admin is ten klicks west from our position," Cortana said. "I bet our Ms Gunn is in their somewhere."

"Got a ship coming in for landing," Linda said, peering through her optics. "Three klicks north of the FIS Office, by the park."

"Alright, double time it, and stay close to the shadows," John ordered.

The Spartans entered a light jog as they moved under the cover of trees and avoided patrols. They did run into the occasional civilian straggler, but there was nothing that could be done except tell them to keep on running. By the time they reached the Civil Administration District, a solid hour had passed.

Blue team stayed low, hugging the walls and hedges as they leap-frogged from one building to another.

" _Hold up,"_ Linda whispered over the TEAMCOM.

The Spartan took a knee and raised a held fist.

John looked down at his motion tracker, a batarian squad of five with light armour support were advancing down the avenue perpendicular to their position.

"Hunker down, we'll take 'em when they're in range," the Chief said.

Fanning out across the avenue, the Spartans readied their respective secondary weapons. John unslung his ARC rifle and flicked the safeties off as he aimed down the sights.

"On my mark," he said, lining up on a batarian between him and the armoured vehicle. "Weapons free!"

The rifle kicked in the Spartans hand, launching a hyper velocity slug at the soldier. The shields flashed as it overloaded, the round pierced through the chest plate and flew out the back. Gore exploded onto the vehicle as the round tore through the cabin, killing whoever was on the other side. John shifted his aim again, and squeezed the trigger thrice, punching three holes into the engine unit.

Kelly strafed from cover to cover, advancing as she emptied half her magazine into the cabin, while Fred and Linda picked off the stragglers. In a matter of seconds, it was over. The batarians were dead before they even knew what was happening.

Moving up to investigate, John cautiously stepped over the remains of a hollowed out chest cavity. He swept the vehicle with his MA5 and wrenched the door open. Peering inside, it was like looking into a meat grinder. Chunks of raw flesh smouldered from the heat given off by the slugs.

One batarian was slumped against the dash, half his head and left arm missing. But in his right, he held a datapad. Shaking off the blood, John held the device and tapped its surface to prevent it from sleeping.

"Any intel we can grab from this?" John asked Cortana.

"It's a message," the AI explained. "Resistance is minimal, move fast; reinforcements may arrive within the day."

…

 _ **-Article Extract-  
Standard Power Armour Mark II  
Devlon Industries  
Military Engineering Expo**_

 _The Standard Power Armour Mark II turns a regular UNSC infantry into a mobile fighting unit capable of being self-sufficient for longer periods of time in the field of armour. Devlon Industries has designed the system to be compatible with existing armour models and future modules._

…

"INCOMING!" Shepard cried.

The artillery shell shrieked in, and ploughed into a truck. The entire vehicle was ripped asunder in a ball of flame, showering the block in rock and warped metal. She pulled Daniel by his arm, and kept him behind her. The Agents were heavily outgunned and outnumbered. Their batarian foes constantly stayed in cover and fired suppressive bursts, making it difficult to take any of them out.

Lining up her sights, Aubrie squeezed the trigger and held it down. Armour piercing rounds streamed out of the barrel and caught a batarian combatant centre mass, completely draining his shields. The last round in Shepard's mag clipped the soldier in the neck, spilling blood. But it wasn't a mortal wound. The soldier staggered, regained his footing and fired back at Aubrie before retreating.

Shepard then led Daniel into a storefront, guiding him to the storeroom.

"We have a back exit!" she shouted to the other Agents.

Johnson kicked the door down with an armoured boot, and stormed through with two other agents.

"Clear!"

Exiting the building and out onto the parallel street, the Agents jogged down the boulevard, leap frogging from cover to cover. The batarians were everywhere.

"Target high! Up on that roof!" an Agent warned.

A SWAT sniper focused fire, and emptied three rounds into a balcony. The batarian's shields flashed and winked out. Shepard quickly zeroed and fired a short burst. A trio of 7mm rounds slammed dead centre, punching through the armour plates and tumbled. Blood poured out of the wounds, and the batarian fell back, lifeless.

"Daniel, stay behind me!"

"LOOK OUT!" the teenage boy cried.

Aubrie spun around just in time to see a blue column slam into a SWAT Agent, sending the man flying into a car with a sickening crunch. In the space of where the Agent was, a heavily armoured batarian took his place. A powerful blue field wrapped around him in ghostly tendrils, and then exploded like a bomb.

Shepard felt the air around her harden as an unseen hand tossed her into a bush. She felt Daniel crash into her, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Shoving the teenager out of harm's way, she brought her weapon up and fired. She saw the batarian's weapon spark and shatter under the hail of her fire. But instead of switching to his sidearm, the batarian charged. Time slowed to a snail's pace as a blue field propelled the batarian forward.

It was like being hit by a freighter.

The batarian had her pinned against a concrete column. Drawing back her fist, she stunned the batarian, knocking his head back far enough just for her to spring forward. She roared as she pushed off the column and brought her entire weight to bear, spearing into the batarian's mid-section.

Slamming the alien against the ground, Shepard brought her fist down on the visor, _hard._ The composite material shattered on such shocking force, shards cutting into her hands. The batarian fell limp, but just to be on the safe side, Aubrie drew her sidearm, and planted one round into the alien's face.

Pulling herself away from the body, Aubrie sucked in air greedily as black dots swarmed her vision. The adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain was becoming ever more present. Her body ached, her leg stung and there was a dull throbbing sensation on the back of her head.

She felt something trickle down the nape of her neck, and instantly knew it was blood.

"C'mon Gunn!" Avery urged. "Get back in the fight."

Shepard pulled herself back into the moment. Scrambling to her feet, she ran towards a parked civilian warthog and drew her sidearm. She swept the area, and with no clear targets, she dashed back to the bushes that ran down the avenue. She leapt over the warped remains of her SMG, and then her heart dropped.

Daniel lay still against the shrubs, face down in the dirt.

Gingerly, she placed a finger against the boy's carotid artery. Nothing – no pulse, just the fleeting warmth of a dead body.

"Shit, shit, shit," Aubrie whispered to herself.

Jogging over to a dead SWAT Agent, she policed his MA5C and ammo while dumping her own rig, and with great care she took his helmet.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically.

Aubrie then stepped back, and returned to the fight.

"Everyone, take cover!" Avery barked.

An armoured fighting rolled out into the open, and began to hammer away at the humans. Its heavy main guns spewed a torrent of fire, ripping through everything. Aubrie quickly threw herself behind a car. Bullets punched through the metal sheets and whipped past her head. She kept on rolling out of the line of fire as the asphalt beside her was churned up. Flecks of hot sparks and shrapnel burned through her shirt and stung at her skin.

 _Fump-fump-fump_

A series of explosions rang out, it sounded like a sledge hammer striking steel. Seconds later came the thunder of an MA5D Chemically Injected Railgun. Dozens of batarians were cut down in quick succession, caught off guard by the overwhelming firepower. Torsos literally exploded, and limbs were shredded off – did some of the garrison at Fort Soko make it out?

"Wolfram!" a deep male voice challenged.

"Beaker!" Shepard replied.

"Gunn?"

That voice sounded familiar.

"Who?" Aubrie called back.

"Blue Team!"

"We'll I'll be damned," Avery murmured. "Chief's here."

"Hold your fire, we're coming out!"

Slowly, the Spartans stepped out from cover, emerging from a destroyed storefront. Seeing them, Aubrie never felt so much relief in her life. But that euphoria quickly died the moment she saw how many able bodied Agents were left.

"Good to see you," Johnson said to the Spartans.

"Likewise," the Chief said with a curt nod.

Aubrie couldn't recognise him in the new armour. It was not the iconic olive green and gold plated visor that she remembered, nor was the armour streamlined like the newer models she'd seen the Spartan-IVs wear. What Blue Team had was closer to that of the TARNHELM armour other UNSC supersoldiers wore. The plates overlapped instead of leaving large sections of the undersuit exposed, and there were plenty of pouches on the support webbing for equipment and ammunition.

"Everyone, I'm Captain Norward," the Chief said, addressing the remaining Agents. "I need you all to fall in, raise whoever you can on COMs and have them rally on the Ural Hills. Reinforcement's ETA is two hours."

The Agents began to reach out on radio or COM towers, hoping to get someone on the horn. Shepard hovered close to the rear of the formation while the Spartans fanned out to the corners. They got off the streets and entered an abandoned mall, exiting out on the other side at the base of the Hills.

…

 _ **-Article Extract-  
GRENADIER Heavy Assault Power Armour  
Hahne-Kedar  
Military Engineering Expo**_

 _Hahne-Kedar is proud to announce the next generation of mechanised support infantry. This heavy suit of powered armour comes equipped with the armoured plates produced by Rosenkov Materials, and energy shields, and is capable of taking on tremendous damage before failing, making it perfect for EOD operations or urban raids or defence of strategic and tactical locations._

 _Rails on both arms allow a variety of hardware to be attached to the armour, ranging from construction equipment to heavy weapons. Though lacking in agility, the armour comes with heavy pistons and thrusters to allow the pilot to dash out of danger, or rush targets. Furthermore, the pilot can fit inside the suit while wearing standard combat armour._

…

The batarian ship in the middle of the park measured close to fifty metres in length – it was laughably small in comparison to UNSC ships, but considering the armaments, the UNSC ships would be easy pickings. The smaller ship's main guns could easily gut a UNSC frigate with a well-placed hit. However, just because the ship could theoretically go toe to toe against vessels several magnitudes larger, it was still vulnerable on the ground. The soldiers guarding it seemed complacent, just walking around as they herded the civilians on board.

Taking one last sweep with his optics, the Chief slowly crawled away from the lip of the cliff and rolled behind the trees. Behind the concealment of a shrub, the Spartan took a knee and dug his finger into the dirt, drawing a rough plan. The central rectangular shape represented the batarian ship, while key features around the ship were marked with various symbols.

John glanced at his watch, one and a half hours until UNSC reinforcements would arrive in the system.

"What're you thinking?" Kelly whispered.

"Take the corvette," he answered.

"So what's the plan, then?" Johnson asked.

"We'll make our way down to the mountain," John explained. "Linda remains here to provide cover. FIS Agents come in with us to help secure the civilians. But we'll take the brunt. No one tries to be a hero, got it?"

Johnson gave a light nod.

"You heard the Spartan," Avery said. "Check your sightlines and stay low, let the big greens do the heavy lifting."

As Linda settled down between two boulders, Kelly handed her ARC rifle and ammo to the sniper.

The group then fanned out across the hill, and began a slow descent down onto the plateau where the batarian ship was nestled. SWAT sharpshooters slowly broke off from the formation, and took up firing positions in the hillside cafes and houses.

Upon reaching the foot of the hills, the assault team fanned out even further, quickly sprinting across the road and hiding behind the shrubbery under the trees that lined the park.

"Linda, sitrep," John broadcasted.

" _Two lookouts on the ship, you've got a squad of six patrolling the ships perimeter, and two more circling the park."_

Targets began to light up red on the Chief's HUD as he panned his gaze around the clearing. About thirty civilians were on their knees, heads facing down as the batarians hovered over them, while another twenty were marched in columns towards the ship.

"Cortana, prep the jammers," John ordered.

" _Running out of time,"_ Linda warned. _"Looks like they're prepping for lift off. Look outs are returning to the hatch."_

There was an idea.

"Linda, mark the hatch. Kelly, make your way through that way. Fred and I will storm the front," John said, and then he turned to Shepard. "Get the civilians out of here."

"You got it," she answered.

"All snipers pick your targets inside the hangar. Agents, move to rescue civilians on the ground. On my mark," John radioed.

The radios clicked back in acknowledgement.

"Everyone ready… Mark!"

Pushing against the dirt hard, the Spartans emerged from cover, firing discriminately. The chemically injected railguns bellowed a deafening war-cry, hypervelocity rounds tore through the air and hit home. Batarian soldiers, caught off guard, shook and shuddered under the murderous hail. Their shields overloaded, their armour caved, and the flesh beneath was shredded. The sniper teams opened fired in unison, and in quick succession, headless bodies began to drop.

John sprinted across the grass, soil kicking up from his boots as he skidded to a halt by a fallen tree trunk. He slapped in a fresh magazine into his rifle, rose from cover and coolly scanned his field of fire. Three batarians were taking shelter behind an energy barrier, firing widely back at the tree line. Zeroing in on their position, John squeezed the trigger and held it down.

The modified MA5 rifle churned out a torrential rain of armour piercing rounds, spent shell casings clattered onto the grass. The depleted uranium tipped rounds sparked against the shields, and brought them down. The closest batarian soldier bore the full brunt of the assault; his shields barely stood for a second before his chest caved in and hollowed out. Gore splattered onto his comrades, who were powerless to help anyone. Suppressed by the savage hail storm, they never got a chance to fight back.

John watched their head explode in a cloud of flesh and blood, and half a second later, he heard the thunderous clap of Linda's sniper rifle.

Vaulting over the tree, the Spartan's legs gave full power and hurled him forward. Fred took up his flank, while Kelly had engaged her thruster pack to get to the upper hatches.

"Chief, find me a console!" Cortana warned. "I can't block wired transmissions from here."

The two Spartans ran up the ramp and into the hangar. Dozens of men, woman and children were cowering behind whatever they could.

"Fred, find a port," John ordered.

Fred gave a curt nod and pulled a router unit from his support rig as he set off to find a suitable console.

"Johnson, situation outside?" the Chief radioed.

" _We've pushed them back, hangar side should be clear."_

"Everyone stay low!" John shouted to the civilians.

" _John, I'm inside,"_ Kelly radioed. _"Could use some directions to the control room."_

"Give me a second," Cortana interrupted. "And bingo. I'm in. Lieutenant, proceed down the hall and take the first right. Use the elevator and descend three decks."

" _Copy."_

John and Fred kept their weapons levelled as they passed through the hangar doors that led further into the ship. The architecture of the ship seemed skeletal, incomplete. The maroon colour scheme did little offset the unease John had, everything so human and alien like.

"Chief, this ship still has human captives aboard," Cortana alerted.

"Set them free," the Spartan said.

"Negative, those locks are manual."

John swore inwardly.

"Linda, sitrep."

"Area clear, just wrapping things up – wait, we've got bogeys inbound. Two fliers and a twelve foots with prisoners."

"I'll go deal with the reinforcements," Fred volunteered.

John weighed out his options.

"Do it," he nodded.

Unlatching the ARC rifle held onto his back, John handed the railgun over to Fred.

"You'll need this more than I do."

"Thanks," Fred said.

The Lieutenant Commander then turned on his heels and left the Chief alone.

"I've sealed out most rooms, your way to the command room should be clear," Cortana said. "But… this ship is ancient. Manual doors, and separate life supports. Take it slow."

John checked his ammo counter, and then proceeded down the hall, moving at a steady pace. If he sprinted through the ship, he could accidentally set off an alarm, or miss corners. But if he took things nice and slow, his reaction time would get the drop on any ambushers.

"Kelly, progress."

" _Slow,"_ the Lieutenant answered. _"Got a lot of jumpers."_

"Copy, stay safe."

Another quarter hour passed as the Spartan slowly combed his way towards the command bridge. The command bridge itself was situated in the centre of the ship, right next to the main reactor room.

"Got your six, Chief," Kelly whispered as she formed up behind him.

"Cortana, how many inside?"

"They don't have cameras in there."

John frowned inwardly. If the life support systems were on a separate network, and if there were no cameras inside the bridge, then the ship was clearly designed or modified in a way that would severely disadvantage any uprising. No matter, he could work around that. Not to mention, the engineers of this ship still made all the doors slaved to one network which had been a definite advantage – something the crew neglected to rectify.

"Prep a flashbang," John ordered. "I'll toss in smoke. Cortana, open the doors on my mark."

The Spartans readied their grenades, pin pulled out and fingers gripping the release.

"Mark!" the Chief bellowed.

The door retracted into the wall, and the canisters were tossed into the room.

 _Thump-bumpf._

The flashbang went off first, blinding whoever was on the other side, and then the smoke grenade went off.

John felt Kelly tapping his shoulder, telling him to move into the room. He felt his heart beat faster as his vision honed. Time slowed to a crawl as the two Spartans surged onto the command bridge. With VISR-thermals engaged, enemy targets were outlined in red, while unknowns were lined in grey.

The Spartans zeroed in on all red targets and squeezed the trigger, side stepping to fan out and flank. The batarian crewman barely stood a chance. Scores of soldiers fell against the onslaught, their chests pulverized and the consoles behind them riddle with bullets.

In a moment of a few heartbeats, it was all over.

Plugging another relay into the separate life support system, Cortana was able to purge the room of smoke.

"Poor sods," Kelly said as she kicked away a gun from a dead soldier. "Never stood a chance."

John then moved around the central console, following the three grey signatures that appeared on his HUD. As he rounded the corner, he saw three humanoids. Two of them had blue skinned, distinctive feminine form, and back swept tentacle like apertures on their heads. The third however, he wasn't sure what to make of the being, other than said being was slightly greyish purple in colour, and looked like an amphibian with horns. He guessed the unknown had to be a technician of sort, judging by the greased overalls and tool belt.

The feminine humanoids on the other hand, he didn't want to know what their purpose was, but he could already tell. Their clothes were extremely revealing and form fitting. It didn't take a genius to know why they were here. But what troubled John even further was that these aliens were _very_ similar to human females.

" _Ifreunar. Ifreunar,"_ the feminine aliens said, fearful.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," John said calmly. "Kelly, we've got slaves, different species."

The moment John said that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he processed the implication of this all meant.

Taking a knee, he depolarised his visor, allowing the aliens to see his eyes.

"Spartan?" she asked.

"Yes…" John answered hesitantly.

He did not expect that. How did they know what a Spartan was? Someone must've said something, simple as that. But it didn't sit well with him.

"You understand me?" he asked.

The two aliens nodded, but the amphibian seemed to be at a loss.

" _Irtuvar iycenlgoch aru,"_ one of the female alien said to him.

He answered back in a series of high pitched clicks that would be near impossible for a human to mimic.

The Spartan offered them a hand a pulled them back up to their feet.

"Chief, reinforcements are arriving within half an hour. We need to tag the ship," Cortana said.

"Okay, stay close," he said to the aliens.

…

How long had it been? Two months? Three? She didn't know. Time just seemed to slow for a crawl since they had taken her. Liara didn't know if she would ever be free again, but now she was – or as close to it as she could possibly be. The giant armoured being was slowly leading her back through the hallways and across the hanger.

Looking out beyond the ramp, she saw the smoke roll back and revealed a far green field pocket marked with craters and bodies. Liara had only seen war in the documentaries shown to her at school, but to see it all up close, it was all so numbing.

"Watch your step," the giant said.

Leading her down the ramp, the soldier set Liara by a fallen tree amongst other aliens. They looked so much alike the asari it was almost uncanny. This alien species would reproduce sexually – if their physiques were anything to go by. The females greatly resembled the asari, save for the varying skin colour, and the long strands of fur – or hair as they called it – on their scalp as opposed to the semi-rigid cartilage the asari had.

As for the human males, their physique closely resembled that of a batarian male, but in Liara's opinion, they were far nicer to look at. These males had two eyes with a white sclera and varying iris colours. Their face seemed to be able to convey more expressions, and their generally more streamlined appearance was more familiar to her.

Liara never got to talk to the human captives outside of translating, but from the glimpses she had gained form their memories during mind melding painted a very disturbing picture. They had been at war with a collective of alien species known as the Covenant – an unstoppable juggernaut that decimated everything in their path. Then there were other memories about the UNSC that would come to save them with their supersoldiers called Spartans. She assumed the gargantuan behemoths that rescued her were Spartans. They had moved so effortlessly and precisely that it almost didn't seem _normal_.

Though most of the minds she melded with were in panic, incoherent and chaotic. The information she received was in shreds, barely enough to understand their history, but enough to understand their language – they had so many it was impossible to tell which apart. That was the "problem" with mind melding, the memories of the other is interpreted by one's own context.

Looking out across the sea of faces, some of the members openly stared at her, as if they hadn't seen the likes of her before. Others just outright ignored her.

But there was an adult female that noticed her. Judging by the equipment she wore, she was probably paramilitary. She was definitely beautiful in a unique way; her long dark auburn strands of hair were tied behind her head, and her warm brown eyes gave a sense or reassurance.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked slowly, with a gesture, placing a blanket over Liara's form.

"I'm fine," the asari said softly.

The human's brows shot up in surprise, before returning to normal as she tried to contain her surprise.

"The batarians used us as translators," Liara explained.

"I'm so sorry," the human said apologetically. "I'm Aubrie, by the way."

"Liara."

"Would you like a drink of water?" Aubrie offered.

The asari nodded, and gingerly held the plastic bottle of water.

"Drink up, plenty to go around."

Tipping back, Liara let the cool liquid course through her, and then breathed. It was the best thing she had in a long time.

"Thank you," she said.

Aubrie gave her a soft smile.

"You're welcome."

"What will happen to me now?"

Aubrie's face dropped into a slight confusion.

"I… I don't know," she said. "But, we'll do our best."

Liara's hand began to shake as the weight of revelation came crashing down on her. Her heat sped up as her body shook. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she buried her face into her palms. She felt two arms wrap around her shoulders, and an armoured plate touched her forehead.

"Hey, hey," Aubrie whispered. "You're safe now. We got you."

The woman smelt like dirt, blood and war, but Liara didn't care. She was safe now, and that was all that mattered.

…

 **-Article Extract-**

 **Economics Insider  
Connectivity  
December 17** **th** **, 2555**

… _It is no secret that the saving grace of the human economy is the lack of interstellar stock trade. That isn't to say that the ramifications of war haven't been felt in all corners of the human empire, but that the ripple effect could've been far worse. Stock trade had been primarily regulated planets due to the lack of real time communications between solar systems. This information lag has been the primary factor in inhibiting interstellar stock trade and economic integration._

 _Recently, the UEG revealed the Waypoint Network which utilises Quantum and Slipspace methods for real time communications between systems. Corporations are soon expected to take on the task of construction and maintenance of these systems, and virtually rendering the process of transporting physical data packets obsolete._

 _Dozens of corporations have already begun to invest in projects which will allow them to utilise Waypoint. These vary from media corporations hoping to expand their streaming services, and game corporations looking to create larger servers._

 _At the years end, Slipspace Gateway Transportation Network is expected to launch. Gateway will create slipspace portals to other gateways in other systems in order to decrease travel time by a significant margin…_

…

 **1890 hours, December 17** **th** **, 2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Presidential Estate, New York**

Once again, Doctor Ruth Charet was calling another meeting. The attack on Mindoir was widely documented, every major news network was dissecting every single bit of footage they could get on, and pundits from all corners of the human empire were voicing their opinions. This was what ONI was afraid of, rampant sensationalist news. But since the UNSC was no longer in control, all the civil duties now fell back to a government that is severely out of shape to handle such a crisis.

Once again, all eyes in the room turned to Keyes for an explanation.

"al-Cygni, if you please," he said.

"We were able to capture a batarian corvette," the Rear Admiral began. "Our analyst scoured the databanks, finding some few hundred languages recorded in the systems. There were also incomplete files on alien biology, but more importantly, our assets were able to rescue three alien members – their species identified to be salarian, and asari. Forerunner archives and Prothean archives show an incomplete picture, but they do correspond with what was found on the batarian ship."

"Do we know where they came from?" Charet asked.

Al-Cygni nodded. "According to their record data, we're able to pinpoint multiple locations of interest."

The Admiral pulled up a holographic display of the Skylian Verge.

"The data allows us to paint a more accurate image of these mass effect relay networks. Apparently we have a minor relay near Mindoir, and the one in the Vetus System is a major relay. According to this information, there should be two major relays since they can only launch in one direction. The minor relays however, can launch in multiple directions."

"Is an expeditionary incursion, viable?" the Secretary of Defence asked.

Hood shook his head.

"We don't have the resources," the Chief of Naval Operations answered.

"We do have an alternative," Keyes interjected. "Provided we can understand how to activate the relays; we can send a fireship armed with a NOVA, through the minor relay, and destroy the other."

"That could kill the captives, or incite revenge," Ying said worriedly.

"I would like to stress that many captives are insurrectionist or sympathisers."

The Secretary of State gave an almost horrified look, as well as most of the Cabinet.

"Keyes is right," Parangosky agreed. "We can't risk leaving our back door open."

Charet almost chalked at the implications.

"The batarian raids are becoming more daring. They are no longer isolated incidents. The attack on Mindoir is a clear sign that the batarians are ready to escalate this," David Gordon added.

Ruth mulled over her options.

"If we were to retaliate with a NOVA," she said. "Where would the batarians most likely strike back in retaliation?"

"Anywhere in the Skyllian Verge," Vice Admiral David Gordon answered. "Probably the Vetus system."

"The system also has ample amounts of element zero, doesn't it?" Charet asked.

"Yes," al-Cygni confirmed.

"I'll task whatever forces I can to be ready to respond," Hood said. "But the war against the Brutes are tying down our resources."

Charet frowned as her jaw tensed. The UNSC was in a precarious position. On the Sangheili front, the Arbiter was having to fight dissidents in his own ranks, and fight the highly organised and well supplied Brutes. Should the Arbiter fall, the UNSC would lose its buffer against the Covenant Loyalists, and a rogue Sangheili faction.

"How long until the fireship becomes viable?" Charet asked.

"You're not seriously considering this?" Ying interrupted.

"There's too many unknowns," Vice President Davis agreed.

"I'm only _entertaining_ an idea," Ruth justified. "How long, Keyes?"

"Two weeks, at least," Keyes answered. "Our teams have cracked the IFF code, now we're trying to see if we can jury rig it into one of our own ships."

"What would happen if we're to go through with this?"

"The energy in the relay node would be release and we'd be looking at a stellar destruction."

Ruth didn't like dealing with unknowns, but at the same time she couldn't just leave humanity's vulnerable back door open to a hostile entity. The meeting dragged on for a few more hours where other solutions were discussed, but little beared any fruit. Calling the meeting to an end, Charet stood up, and discreetly stretched her legs as everyone filed out.

The batarian crisis as she had begun to call it was becoming something more. Humanity was going to have another rude awakening soon, and how it was going to play out, was how history was going to remember Charet's Presidency.

…

 **January 13** **rd** **, 2556  
Valinor City, Silver Glass Region, Elysium  
Vetus System, Skyllian Verge**

Elysium, like its namesake, was a paradise. Founded by Admiral Jon Grissom, the planet's early settlers were mainly the wealthy who sought to live out the rest of their days in peace and quiet, away from the politics and strife that plagued the rest of the UEG territories.

Guiding her car along the coastal roads, Aubrie gave a nervous sigh. She had spent most of the last three years rooting out Insurrectionist cells since she was not given Command of a ship. Sometimes, when Aubrie was having a stake out in some dank dive bar on some backwater colony, she would often find herself missing the soft rumble of the reactors, and the light clicks of the command consoles. Miranda Keyes on the other hand was shifted over to the ONI Prowler Corp, and was probably enjoying it. Aubrie was quite sure however since communications were restricted. But being home was going to allow her to catch up on her correspondence.

Shepard was by all technicalities, a colony kid. Her family home was perched against a hillside, which overlooked the bay to its west, and the coastline to its east.

" _Your destination is on your left,"_ the GPS system said.

Pulling the car to a halt, Aubrie shut off the engines and exhaled. She looked up to the beautiful Grecian-Roman inspired architecture of her family home, and griped the steering wheel even harder.

 _Engine's off_ , a small voice insider her whispered.

She was so close to home, and yet still so far. Releasing her hold, she tilted her head back into the rest, and breathed out an uneasy sigh, her chest wavering with anxiety.

Her phone rang, and picking up the device, she swiped to answer the call.

"Hey mom," she answered.

"Aubrie, sweetie, what time are you getting here? You sure you don't need us to pick you up?" her mother asked.

"No, no. I'm already on the way," Aubrie said, clearing her throat.

"You okay, dear?" Hannah asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm – um – fine."

"Okay, we'll don't take too long. Little George wants to see you."

She watched the windows where her older sister, Melanie was pacing around the room, rocking a toddler to sleep. George was curled up against his mother, his tiny chubby hands firmly held onto his mother's beautiful dark brown mane as she tucked his head under the crook of her neck.

Aubrie smiled at the sight of a blissful child falling asleep.

A light knock at the door brought her crashing back to reality. Turning over to the passenger side of the car, she saw her father, Sam with a concerned look on his face. Aubrie silently cursed herself for being so sloppy – and for nearly pulling out her sidearm. She heard the light thump of the latch slapping back into its place. The door was locked.

Tapping the switch, she gave a soft smile as her dad opened the door and sat down next to her.

"Hey, honey," he said tenderly.

"Hey dad," she said back. "Just got back?"

Sam nodded lightly.

"Had to go over a few things at the office," he answered. "C'mon. Everyone's waiting."

"Yeah… I… I just need a minute," Aubrie whispered.

Her father didn't say anything. He held her left hand with both of his, and gave a reassuring smile.

Steeling herself, Aubrie opened the doors, and stepped out of the company car. The smell of the cool sea and pine air filled her as she breathed it all in.

Her father placed a warm reassuring hand on her shoulder as he guided her to the house.

"Your mother was like you when she first got back," he said softly. "Just give it time, and try to remember the normal things."

Aubrie gave a half-hearted smile as her father's hand griped the door handle, and pushed it open. She stepped into the familiar foyer that seemed so distant. She could hear her older brother, Scott cooking out back with their mother helping him.

"Go see George," her dad said. "I'll go get everyone."

Aubrie entered the lounge room that overlooked the hills and the sea. She took off her shoes and socks, placing them neatly by the archway before padding across the lush carpet.

"Hey," Melanie whispered.

George stirred from his sleep, and blinked tired. His warm brown orbs looked at his mother before his turning his head to see Aubrie. The teething tot's face lit up into a beautiful smile as he gurgled with delight. Reaching out with his chubby little eyes, the baby squealed and made a grasping motion for his auntie. The sight warmed Aubrie's heart as she beamed back at the baby.

"Someone's happy to see you," Melanie said, bouncing the child lightly.

Aubrie walked up to her sister and cradled George with boundless care.

"Hey little guy," she whispered affectionately. "You've gotten bigger haven't you?"

George squealed again before resting his head against his auntie's chest.

"Where's Geoff?" Aubrie asked, referring to Melanie's husband.

"He went out to buy some more formula, and Scott needed some herbs."

Aubrie felt the baby squirm in her arms, trying to reach for her hair which had been tied back.

"Think our little guy here wants to be a stylist," she cooed, using one hand to move her ponytail around for George to play with. "It's not as soft and silky as your mummy's, sweetie."

"Oh he'll be a nightmare when he learns to walk," Melanie said. "Angie told me that Charlie grabbed her hair so much to stand up, she had to cut it."

Aubrie gave a soft laugh.

"How old is Charlie now?"

"Thirteen. He's in Geoff's maths class."

"They grow up so fast," Aubrie said, and then planted a kiss on George's chubby cheeks. "But not too fast."

…

 _ **-Schematics Introduction-  
**_ **Supremacy** _ **-class battleship  
Nautilus Engineering**_

 _During the era of seaborne naval warfare, the advent of carriers led to the dissolution of heavily armoured warships because their armour was vulnerable to bombs carried by small fast attack aircraft. Aircraft carriers became the dominant projection of power and interests, however with the advent of railguns and coilguns, the battleship began to return to the scene because of the incredible range and accuracy offered by advance targeting systems and the weapon systems' incredible range._

 _This trend continued on with the development of spaceborne warships. Carriers are capital ships that are essential to the subjugation or defence of key locations, while battleships returned to the role of providing overwhelming firepower._

 _A lone battleship cannot support ground forces, while a carrier's compliment would be rendered useless in open engagements. Thus a battleship would provide screening for a carrier, and in turn, the carrier could provide an escort compliment to defend against boarders._

 _The_ Supremacy _-class battleship is designed to accompany Infinity-class carriers, and provide heavy firepower that will neutralise an entire enemy force. Stretching to 4.2 kilometres, the Supremacy's primary power cores are the same model as the Infinity, allowing it to have thicker armour than the infinity as well as multiple separate reactor cores to power shields and weapons, while being faster._

 _The ship has taken inspiration from the dagger shaped ships of old, where the maximum firepower could be directed towards the front of the ship._

Supremacy _carries a total of twelve MAC gun turrets, with each turret housing three canons. These turrets are rapid firing MAC guns which can quickly suppress enemy fleet formations or wipe out flotillas with unparalleled accuracy. The turrets are mounted on the trapezoidal wings where coolant can quickly disperse the build-up of heat._

 _In order to allow each turret to traverse at speed, are mass effect fields and electromagnetic systems. The turrets are arranged at 120 degrees to one another, in this way, the first turret has a horizontal field of fire of 100 degrees of the ship; the second turret (which is elevated) has a 200 degree horizontal field of fire, allowing it to engage targets at the front and back of the ship. The third turret is on the same elevation as the first and has a 200 degree horizontal field of fire._

 _The Supremacy's main guns are three 8 series MAC guns – one less than the Infinity. In favour of the turrets, the Engineers had to sacrifice flank mounted 8 series._

 _Within the main octagonal prism hull are missile tubes and plasma turretss, as well as a network of point defence weapon systems that will defend the ship from incoming projectiles or boarding parties…_

…

 **0800hrs, January 14** **th** **, 2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Aboard UNSC stealth cruiser **_**Point of No Return**_ **  
En route to Indigo Hotel**

Being the Head of Section III had given Keyes a unique view into the world. From his position, he had access to the Joint Special Warfare Command, the Intelligence Community, and the Defence Research Department. And unlike the other ONI leadership positions, Section III had no term because officially, it was designated as scientific research. That wasn't the only perk, however. Upper echelons of ONI were granted access into the _Point of No Return_ , a stealth cruiser prowler designed to ferry high level leaders between the core worlds to meet with corporate board members, and to act as a mobile command and control ship.

Since the ship was listed as a Section III asset, it allowed Keyes to have his own personal office aboard – a place he hadn't been in until now.

Due to protocol, unknown alien species were to be quarantined and held at a blacksite. Thanks to the new slipspace drives, the journey would only take a few hours as opposed to a few weeks.

In the comfort of his office, Keyes read over the analysis report of the Mindoir raid as he nursed a cup of instant minestrone soup. It was scandalous for him to be eating that kind of junk, his nutritionist would throw a fit, but Keyes had shoved the cup into his day bag before boarding. It just seemed like a waste if he didn't eat it now, and it was almost too much effort to go to the cafeteria. He could get Martinez to get him something, but that would be somewhat cruel and unusual. The woman needed her sleep.

A door chime brought him out of his reverie, causing him to sit up a little straighter in his chair.

"Come in," he said over the intercom.

The doors parted open quietly, allowing Vice Admiral Anna Greenfield to enter.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Keyes asked, mixing his dry nonchalant tone with a hint of playful sarcasm.

"Sleep," Greenfield said.

"Did Martinez bring you up to this?" Charles joked.

Anna rolled her eyes the way a mother would when her son did something to cheeky but endearing.

"Her and Cooper."

"It's a conspiracy," Charles muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Thought you were going to give me an update."

"Indigo Site can wait," the Vice Admiral said. "Keyes… you need sleep, and a proper meal. The sandwich on the flight; and the soup doesn't count."

"Alright, alright," Charleston abdicated, raising a hand in defeat. "I'm going. But first sign of trouble, you call me."

Greenfield nodded.

"Get some sleep Keyes," she said.

…

 **1730 hours, January 14** **th** **2256 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Indigo Hotel, Location Classified**

Indigo Hotel (or Indigo Station) was used to interrogate captured Covenant Officers. Its existence is highly classified, and virtually every subject sent to the facility would never see the light of day again – much like those sent to Midnight Facility. Charles had ran across references to the Station on numerous occasions, most of them due to reports. But since his experience was more in the sciences, he had Anna Greenfield to cover most of the black operations while keeping him in the loop.

"How many batarians do we have here?" Keyes asked.

"Forty-six, including those captured from Mindoir," Green answered.

"Ma'am, sir," a man greeted with a curt nod.

Like most of the personnel stationed here, he was wearing a matte black ODST armour, but minus the helmet.

"Clarkson," Anna responded. "This is Section III Head Charleston Keyes."

"Pleasure, sir."

Keyes gave a courteous nod.

"What do we have?" he asked.

"Follow me."

Through the clinically white halls of the station, Clarkson led them through the maze-like facilities and checkpoints. A quick tram ride later, and the small group arrived at an observation room. Keyes gestured for the security detail and the two aides that accompanied him and Anna, to wait outside as he entered.

Inside the observation room was a one way mirror, as well as half a dozen monitors displaying camera feeds from multiple angles, sitting in front of them were analysts watching the subjects every move.

Inside the interrogation room was a batarian soldier naked from the waist up, and barefoot. Blood was slowly seeping out of superficial wounds, while bruises ran across his body. He was strung up by his arms, his legs struggling to maintain balance. In the shadows stood four interrogators, while another paced back and forth in front of the batarian.

"Batarian soldiers aren't known for being talkers," Clarkson explained. "All we're getting out of them is that they're slavers."

An individual's resistance to interrogation was based on a number of factors, most of which could be circumvented of laws were broken. So when it came to the batarians, it was a messy but methodical process of gathering data on their primal fears and reactions.

" _What is your name?"_ the Interrogations Officer asked, using the translation software.

The voice had changed to a baritone level with a gruff edge to it.

" _Barshan Irvat,"_ the batarian gurgled.

"Wash him," the IO gestured.

One of the operatives grabbed a bucket of water and dumped the contents over Barshan. The water cascaded down the batarian's body, washing away the blood and revealing the tattoos beneath. The soiled liquid drained into the grates below Barshan.

" _Why are you here, Barshan?"_ the Officer asked.

" _You brought me here,"_ Ivrat replied smugly.

" _Wise ass, huh?"_ the Officer responded calmly.

Stepping behind Irvat, the Officer dug his glove hands into the hem of the pants, and violently pulled them down. Barshan's face shot down in surprise at the sudden exposure.

Keyes frowned at the vulgarness of the situation, but he quickly schooled his features back to neutral as the Officer walked back in front of Irvat. Then without warning, the Officer's boot flew forward and struck the batarian's genitals.

" _HGAAAAH!"_ Barshan howled in pain, throwing back his head as he roared.

His entire body collapsed, only held up by the shackled arms. Slowly, his head drooped back down, panting as he tried to control himself and regain his footing.

The Officer gripped the batarian's forehead and dug all of his fingers into the nasal like structures. Barshan's face contorted in pain, his body shook as the chains chattered.

" _I want you to understand something,"_ the IO said soft and gravely. _"You are going to be here for the rest of your life. There's no one coming for you. Your buddies are slavers – you're scum. So, I want your leader, I want a name. If you help me, I'll make your stay here easier."_

Barshan growled and spat at the Officer, the spittle flew through the air and landed on the IO's fatigues.

Releasing his grip, the Officer stepped back and signalled for his aides.

"Dunk him, see if he talks tomorrow."

The Officer stood back as the attendants used the controls to lower Barshan onto the floor. Picking him up, they strapped him onto the gurney and tilted his entire body back at an angle. Then the cloth was placed over his face, and the water dumping began.

"Like I said sir, they're not talkers," Clarkson said, leading Keyes out of the observation room.

"Or maybe their officers were killed in the raid."

"Maybe," Clarkson shrugged. "But it doesn't hurt to try."

"You have anything else?" Keyes asked.

"Just some info on their culture we got from the asari and salarian. They're big on social caste and hierarchy. We tried using that to weed out officers, but not dice."

"Give them time," Keyes said. "They'll break eventually."

"Everybody breaks eventually, sir. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Take me to other tenants," Keyes said, referring to the salarian and two asari.

Clarkson led the entourage to the other side of the facility where the clinically white walls soon gave way to warmer colours, landscape paintings and large garden courtyards. To someone who would've been kept in solitary confinement, a place like this would be a heavenly reprieve.

One of the courtyards was used to serve as a billeting area for the non-hostile tenants.

"From what we've gathered, they haven't been slaves for long. About two years for the salarian, and two months for the asari," Clarkson began as he handed Keyes the dossier.

The reports stated that the asari initiated communication by mind melding with members of different species. But the reports didn't mention anything about being able to manipulate dark energy, though Keyes decided against pushing the issue. It did say that the batarians had inserted control chips into their slaves, which doctors had refused to remove because their lack of alien biology.

"What do we know about mind-melding?"

"According to them, it is extremely tiring. And they can only view what memories the other allows them to see."

Keyes's jaws tensed slightly. Javik didn't have that issue – at a cursory touch, the Prothean was able to gleam linguistics perfectly.

The salarian name was Korek Talin, he was a private contractor engineer on a mining facility before the batarians raided the place, taking him prisoner. The asari were Doctors Areah T'Lon and Liara T'Soni, they were on an archaeological mission when their camp was attacked.

Keyes scrolled down to the treatment report. Clarkson had made a specific request to use female staff dressed in regular fatigues to acclimatise the three aliens. It was probably a smart move on his part considering the uncanny resemblance between the asari and the human female.

"What were they digging for?" Greenfield asked.

"I don't know, but here's a sketch."

Clarkson showed a sketch of a device that was an ovular cylinder with green seams.

"Prothean," Keyes answered. "I'll get my people to update your databases."

"Thanks."

Noticing Charles in deep thought, Anna sidestepped to face him.

"What're you thinking?" she asked.

"How much do we know about them? Their personal lives, their nation," Keyes asked Clarkson.

"We know that Talin is about forty standard years. T'Lon's about three hundred and T'Soni is in her early hundred – or so they claim. Everything else is in the file."

"Wish I looked that good when I get to her age," Greenfield commented.

Information or the asari and salarian were sparse, but the Forerunner and Prothean archives did indicate an asari's rate of decline was significantly slower than all the other races. The salarians on the other hand had about half a century at most due to their rapid metabolism.

"Get them prepped to leave," Keyes ordered.

"Yes sir."

Green gave Charles a look.

"This might be a bit too soon," she said.

Keyes shook his head in disagreement.

"Sooner we get them out of here the better. They're from different nations; it might be a good way to open up relations"

"Or send everyone into panic," Greenfield countered. "The people aren't ready."

"I don't think we have a choice," Keyes said begrudgingly. "Sooner or later, we're going to encounter those nations. We need allies.

…

 _ **-Memorandum Extract-  
Batarian Corvette Analysis**_

… _preliminary data reveals that this ship used a series of relays to arrive at Earth. Using the flight recordings, a series of strategic locations have been established for raids. However these targets are beyond the range of our current generation of ships. If we are to move against these targets, it will have to be a large task force comprised primarily of our newer ships._

 _Flight data from these ships reveal that batarian FTL speeds of 15 light years within a 24 hour time frame, as opposed to our current 2.53 light years per 24 hours. This range as well as virtually undetectable mode of travel will allow batarians to slip into our systems with a minimal footprint._

 _Furthermore their main guns have a far greater velocity than our Standard MAC MkIIs, thus giving them greater range of engagement against our older generation of ships…_

…

 **1850 hours, January 14** **th** **, 2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Valinor, Arda, Elysium**

 __Aubrie found a bar by the sea, not too far away from the CBD; she always passed it whenever she went for her long morning runs. Most of the friends she knew had moved out to the suburbs where they could raise a family, and the odds of her, running into anyone familiar here was near non-existent. The bar catered to a high clientele who didn't care that it would be cheaper to buy the same drinks from the sports bar three blocks away.

She sat at the bar nursing a beer and a plate of fries.

"Are you alright?" a man asked.

Shepard looked up. He was a tall man, neat black hair, dark eyes and fair skin. He wore a white collared shirt that had fine grey vertical pinstripes, a dark blue tie with a tie clip, black slacks and black leather shoes.

"Yeah… fine," Aubrie answered, faking a slightly perplexed voice.

He had an expression of genuine concern, which wasn't all that rare these days, but it still caught her off guard. War had a way of uniting people together.

"It's hard, isn't it? Being back… in this," he waved.

"Yeah… yeah it is," Aubrie agreed. "You were in the service?"

"Still am," he said with a slight nod. "Air Force."

"Navy."

There was a slight pause as the man took a sip.

"Couldn't've been easy," he commented solemnly. "Been part of the clean-up?"

"Something like that."

"I'm Langley, by the way."

"Aubrie."

The soft sound of a phone vibrating filtered through the air. To the average human ear, it would've been drowned out by the ambient noise, but Aubrie heard it as clearly as she could hear Langley.

"Excuse me, I need to take this," he said.

Turning away in his seat, he fished his phone out of his pocket and tapped the answer key.

"Yes? Okay. I'll see you soon."

Langley ended the call and stowed the smartphone away.

"I need to go," he said apologetically. "I'll see you later."

"See you 'round," Aubrie smiled.

She waited for him to leave the premise before she began to look at him inquisitively as he left. His walk, the way how he held himself hinted at a higher level of education, and a strong sense of caution and weariness. The former was easy to pick up on, but the last two were very difficult to spot. Something about him just didn't seem to fit for lack of a better term.

He wasn't creepy or weird, nothing like that. He came across as an extremely reserved individual. He also didn't open with a pick up line which was a first, but then again a bar like this was more for private social gatherings as opposed to meeting new people.

Aubrie suddenly wondered if he was one of those shrinks that would form friendships with operatives fresh from deployment. She'd have to call al-Cygni about it, but odds are, her boss would deny it all. Still, Langley seemed like an alright person. She'd take what she could get.

… **  
1300 hours, January 15** **th** **, 2566 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Fort Saladin, New Carthage**

Feeling the warmth of the sun and the kiss of a cool breeze was always welcomed for Liara. Standing on the balcony, she could close her eyes and just let the sensation wash over her, forgetting the horrors of everything she had been through. The humans had been kind and accommodating, but she could also sense a hint of weariness and caution in them. She had answered their questions to the best of her abilities, everything ranging from the galactic community, popular trends, politics, to Protheans – everything. She'd even demonstrated a bit of her biotic talents for them. They seemed impressed, but not all that surprised which was a bit unnerving.

Areah, Korek and Liara had answered all the questions to the best of their abilities, and in turn, the humans gave them access into their version of the extranet. It was a sign of trust and mutual cooperation, and it was here where Liara could learn whatever she wanted about them.

Like all other sapient species, humanity was plagued with superstition that stunted their advancement, but as soon as those barriers were overcome, they took great strides. Some endeavours had been highly inefficiently and costly, while others produced phenomenal results with only a fraction of the cost. But what seemed to define humanity the most, was their propensity for war – always war.

On a physiological level, the human species could be attributed as being proficient in all trades but a master of none. Their homeworld, Earth was a deceptive garden planet, it looked beautiful, but it was unforgiving. It seemed almost impossible that a species like the humans could've survived on such a world, let alone become the dominant species. Humans didn't have the benefit of having the speed of a salarian, the agility of an asari, the turians' discipline and predatory instinct, the krogans' endurance and brutality, nor the drells' artisan hunter skills. All the humans had were their own mind, a powerful mind that was piloting a frail body.

Much like the asari, the human species opted for cooperation, forming a strong bond with the canines – a family of animals that were their direct competitor in the food chain. To Liara, it would seem that a species like the humans would have advanced through cooperation, like the asari had. But that was not the case. The greatest milestones of human accomplishments were done in the midst of conflict and war – born out of a need to strike each other down harder and faster.

Though it was probably the human's saving grace that they were just as capable of making peace as fast as they declared war, a species like the humans would undoubtedly create a mark on galactic history as much as the asari and the salarians did. But that was Liara's opinion – and considering how conservative those in power were, it may not be a popular one.

"Liara?" it was Areah.

Brought out of her thoughts, the young asari opened her eyes and looked at the asari Maiden.

"Hello Areah," T'Soni answered.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," T'Lon said.

She placed both of her elbows on the banister, and leaned out, enjoying the cool sea breeze.

"It's nice here," Areah added.

"It is, isn't it?" Liara agreed. "Easy to forget everything."

Areah hummed in agreement as she casted her gaze out over the waters.

"What do you think will happen now?"

LIara knew she wasn't referring to when they'd get home. Korek said that the humans were still figuring out on how to initiate contact with asari space with all the problems that it entailed such as activating a relay and preparing the necessary diplomatic channels. What Areah meant, was what was going to happen to the galaxy now.

Much of the Galactic Southern East from the Inner Council Space was uncharted – save for batarian space. Humanity's war with the Covenant would send tremors across the galaxy. It would not affect trade or political relations, but it could certainly hamper any future ones made with the region.

In all honesty, Liara didn't know. Humans are an eclectic species, still heavily divided and lacking a unified identity even after all they had been through.

After a long pause, T'Soni answered.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe I can ask my mother when I see her again."

Areah gave a soft smile.

"We'll get home eventually."

"Eventually," Liara agreed.

…

" _War makes a good man better, and a bad man worse."  
_ _ **-Colonel Joshua Chamberlain, Army of the Potomac**_

…

 **Afterword**

This next part is going to be difficult for me because I prefer to avoid things that would make me sound a bit disingenuous but it has to be said regardless of how late the news is, regardless how disingenuous it may sound. It has to be said, because it's important to me.

For those of you who do not know it, Freedom Guard passed away. Salvador R, Balleza has written many titles, and most of you here would've come across his works at some point. In fact, he is the reason why I wrote my first Halo/Justice League crossover, and he played a huge factor in getting me into Mass Effect, which led me to write a half dozen stories in this fandom. He is a catalyst for me to write long epics, and he will be greatly missed.


	5. Skyllian Blitz Part I

**Foreword**

This chapter was supposed to come out earlier… much earlier (like waaaaay earlier – as in late November 2015), but it got delayed because I got too distracted playing Medieval 2 Total War, followed by Guild Wars 2, and then Cities: Skyline, followed by more Guild Wars 2, and then binge watching Chuck… and then World of Tanks… and then the recent Steam Sale of Summer 2016 – are you ready for a miracle?

Anyway, not so much exposition this time around. I think I've got most of the world building out of the way. And before some of you ask, no, Halo 5 will not be in this story. 343i's direction with Halo doesn't really suit the narrative I have in mind for _Shadow Contingency_ , but that doesn't mean that I will disregard all of the content they have or will publish.

 **Author's Note**

Little house keeping issue, I just changed FIIA to FIA, reason being, the former is a bit of a mouthful to say – that's really it.

 **Skyllian Blitz Part I**

…

" _Element zero is very a scarce material within human space – maybe it's because it's so difficult to detect. But we have found massive element zero deposits in the Vetus System's asteroid fields."  
_ _ **-Doctor Mark Graham**_

…

 **1800 hours (Local); 1100 hours, March 27** **th** **2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Valinor City, Silver Glass, Elysium  
Skyllian Verge**

Aubrie bounced George on her lap, the teething tot squealing in delight.

"Who's this?" she cooed, bringing a stuff toy to life.

George reached out with his chubby arms, trying to grab the teddy bear. Aubrie made the bear dart back and forth, then swooping in to nuzzle George. The baby squirmed with glee, his fingers trying to grasp the speedy toy.

Eventually, Aubrie united George with his bear, a soft smile forming on her lips as the baby snuggled into her arms with his hands wrapped tightly around the toy. Placing a soft kiss on the child's forehead, she lifted the three of them off the floor and sat down on the couch.

"Aren't you cute?" she asked.

George gave a bashful smile, as if he seemingly understood her.

"Mamama," the baby bubbled.

His bright eyes locked onto his mother, his hands reached out for her maternal warm.

"That's right," Aubrie whispered. "That's your mommy."

Picking him up gently, she cradled him as she brought George to Melanie.

The young mother wrapped her child up in her arms, holding him close and letting him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Time for a nap, sweetie," she said. "Say bye, bye auntie."

"Buhbuh," the toddler bubbled.

Aubrie smiled, and closed in to plant a kiss on his temple.

George blinked tiredly, his chubby hands tangling in his mother's long brown locks. Aubrie was almost envious of the serene joy plastered on his face that it pained her heart. She may be his auntie, but she would always be second to his mother.

"I'll go get dinner ready," Aubrie whispered.

"Okay," Melanie nodded. "I'll put him to bed first."

…

 _ **UNSC Defence Force Memorandum  
February 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2556**_

 _ **Biotics**_

 _All combat personnel are reminded to be wary of engaging batarian forces in close quarters combat. Some batarians are biotics – meaning that their nervous system can harness the power of dark energy and effectively wield it as a kinetic weapon._

 _Any biotic personnel are to be prioritised as high risk targets and must be neutralised immediately._

 _Force Multiplier Teams are warned not to engage biotics in melee unless absolutely necessary._

…

 **1500 hours (Local); 1200hours, March 27** **th** **2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Providence Site (Portal)  
Voi, Kenya**

Whenever humanity retreated, nature would return back to the fold in an attempt to return everything to the way it once was. Megacities which were once concrete jungles were now teaming with wildlife. Vines wrapped themselves around pylons, while shrubbery burst through the pavement. Some would say it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. But Charles thought differently. The dichotomy of plant and metal rubbed him the wrong way. These were once orderly cities, optimised by engineers and architects who laboured day and night. These cities were once homes to millions; and now they were nothing more than unmarked graves where Mother Nature sought to overrun.

Of course, not all cities were reclaimed by nature – it depended on the climate. Cities that were built in arid or desert climates looked no older than the day the Covenant had pummelled them to the ground. Voi, and Mombasa – the area surrounding Providence Site still remained barren, and covered in blackened rubble and glass. That was what glassing did. It blasted life out of existence and then coated the earth in shell that would ensure the land would remain sterile and infertile. Without any microbes in the soil, nothing could ever grow from the ashes.

It was easy to forget that Earth's population had been reduced to 200 million. Having spent so much time buried in reports or meetings, Keyes rarely left the confines of New South Wales, Washington D.C. and New York – areas that were overlooked by the Covenant in favour of more populated megacities closer to the equator such as New Mombasa and Hubei, or the hundreds of floating cities around the globe.

Charles had to gut non-critical programs to provide funding and manpower which would go towards in rebuilding Earth. Already, teams of engineers, AIs and drones were working around the clock to establish safe zones. Refugees who had somehow miraculously survived the war were coming to Earth in the hopes of finding a new life. Even then, the refugees wouldn't be enough to bolster Earth, and furthermore, there was the ever present fear that some of them could Insurrectionists.

In a dream world, the UEG would be able to provide housing and wages for these people to be happy. But Earth had been decimated, and three years is nowhere near enough to recover. Earth would need to rely on the colonies downspin from her; it was as simple and unforgiving as that.

But if there was some morbid silver lining to all of this, was that there was now plenty of land available to construct testing and training facilities, as well as keeping prying eyes away from Providence Site. Earth would essentially be a clean slate for development. Decades down the track, humanity's homeworld would be the pride and joy of mankind; a jewel that would outshine others.

Gazing out upon the blackened fields, Charles turned his eyes skyward – where the portal hung. A steady stream of cargo vessels moved between the portal and the airfield, where raw goods would be unloaded and transported to a civilian port. Parallel to the sky lane, an _Autumn_ -class cruiser descended.

"There she is," the air traffic controller said nonchalantly. " _Winter Night_ , you are clear for ascent into orbit."

" _Winter Night_ copies, tower."

Charles walked towards the windows and leaned against the railings. The new _Autumn_ -class cruisers were a magnificent sight to behold. Below _Winter Night_ were two decommissioned _Epoch_ -class supercarriers awaiting clearance to ascend into the Portal. From there they would journey to the Ark and be cannibalised for parts.

It was a bit melancholic watching such powerful ships leaving service, but their tried and true superstructures (upon which the _Infinity_ -class was based on) would be used for the next generation of vessels.

" _Supremacy_ to Providence, we are entering the Portal."

"Providence copies, welcome to Earth, ladies and gentlemen."

"Here is she is," Greenfield whispered.

Out of the black sphere, the _Supremacy_ emerged. Her long sleek hull flowed through the containment field and into Earth's atmosphere.

"Look at the size of her," one of the controllers commented.

The _Supremacy_ -class battleship, a capital warship designed purely for heavy firepower and armour. Her purpose is to shadow _Infinity_ -class supercarriers and serve as the backbone of the fleet. Stretching to 4200 metres, the _Supremacy_ -class is clad in five meters of titanium-A3 and tungsten composite armour plating with reinforced hull sections.

Because the _Supremacy_ -class is comparatively lighter than the _Infinity_ -class but powered by the same engines, the battleship is ultimately faster. However, despite its armaments, the _Supremacy_ -class lacks the ability to mount a planetary assault or boarding actions. On board compliments are mainly security details to repulse boarders.

"Ten years to build," Greenfield commented. "And to think we were going to scuttle her."

"So you knew this whole time," Keyes said, more of a statement. "Thought she was only on blueprint."

"Well," Anna began, leaning in towards him slightly. "When you and thirty other teams said that the war was unwinnable, project was grounded and resources redirected to build _Infinity_."

"They scuttled her?"

Greenfield shook her head; Charles hadn't read the full report.

"No," she began. "Not enough time to strip her apart. Just redirected resources."

Satisfied with the answer, Charles gazed back out the window and focused on the wings of _Supremacy_. They weren't there for aerodynamic lift, but to act as giant radiators. The trapezoidal "wings" stretched from the aft to the mid ship, allowing the _Supremacy_ -class to have additional engines and MAC cannon turrets. Three series 8 MACs, and a staggering 12 triple barrel turrets which equated to 36 Mk6 MACs, meant that little could stand in the way of a _Supremacy_ -class battleship.

"Sir, call from Sydney," Martinez alerted.

Keyes and Greenfield turned to face the aide.

"Elysium's been hit."

…

" _The M80 Chemically Injected Railgun Shotgun – or lovingly nicknamed "Matey" by naval personnel. This shotgun fires discarding sabot rounds which either contain ball bearing, slug or armour piecing darts. This weapon was designed specifically in mind to engage heavy targets such as the brutes in close quarters combat."  
_ _ **-M80CIR Shotgun Extract from TV Series**_ **Arms through the Ages**

…

 **1920 hours (Local); 1320 hours, March 27** **th** **2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Valinor City, Silver Glass, Elysium  
Skyllian Verge**

The world was drowned out into a high pitched whine. Shrapnel had torn into Aubrie's skin, drawing blood. Everything seemed out of balance; out of place. It was as if someone was shaking the ground. Shepard blinked away the dots in her eyes. The glass crunched as she pushed herself off of the ground. Slowly, the world crawled back, and the dull thump of artillery and the screams could be heard again. A missile had ripped into the car, flipping the SUV onto its side. Travelling at speed, the car had come to a screeching halt at the intersection.

"Is everyone okay?" Shepard coughed.

Silence. Her heart froze over as bile rose to her throat. A sickening feeling washed over Aubrie.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she held herself against the handle and turned around. Melanie was slumped against the shattered window. Her skin mired in cuts and burns. George and his father were nowhere to be seen.

"No… no, no, no. Fuck." Aubrie whimpered, bile rising in her throat. "God no, please."

Pushing against the dash and unclasping her buckle. Shepard clambered into the back, and placed a finger on Melanie's carotid artery.

"C'mon, please. No," Aubrie gasped as tears stung her eyes.

There was so much blood, and it was all still warm. But there was no pulse. Aubrie placed her hand in front of Melanie's nose, just for good measure, but she couldn't feel a breath.

"No," Shepard choked.

Gun fire roared around the car. Stray bullets struck the chassis. All around, people were running, screaming… dying. The sound of war was so loud; Aubrie didn't even hear the sound of screeching tyres until it was too late. A car slammed into the overturned SUV, the roof rushing to meet her.

Pain shot through Shepard's shoulders as she was thrown to the ground.

She needed to move.

"I'm sorry," she said to her sister, numbly.

Pulling herself out of the torn vehicle, Aubrie drew in a deep breath. She tried to ignore the stench of burnt flesh, and the silhouette of bodies along the boulevard, but failed. Staying low, she hugged the shadows of the buildings and kept her back pressed into the garden walls.

She looked back and forth across the street frantically, hoping to find the baby. Her heart hammered in her chest. The driver of the other car was dead, and his daughter's head bent at an awkward angle. Aubrie scrambled over the garden box, and rolled into the café, before breaking into a low sprint.

Her eyes panned across the boulevard, a small part of her praying to find George and Geoff.

 _Too many bodies_.

There was simply just too many, broken and torn.

An ominous howl filled the air, a low warbling drone and a high pitched whine. Batarian attack aircraft swooped in low and fast. Bullets peppered the pavement and roads, kicking up cement and asphalt. Bodies caught in the maelstrom were ripped to ribbons or just pulverised. Then came the sound of the gunfire, the chilling roar of the heavy weapons hammering away. Bullets travel faster than sound.

Shepard dove into an alley way, and threw herself behind one of the dumpsters. She rested her head, and blinked away the stinging tears. Her body still ached, and her blood soaked her clothes. Everything had happened so fast.

Collecting her thoughts, she then pulled herself back up and checked to see if the coast was clear. She needed weapons and supplies to get out of the city. Aubrie pushed further down the alley way and entered a small parking area for business owners. She looped around the cars and left via another alley that faced the rear entrance of a mall.

 _Bingo_.

Shepard launched herself out of the alley way and sprinted across the road. Her heels kicked up a cloud of pulverised cement as she leapt over the dead and vaulted over crashed cars. Pushing through the rear entrance, Shepard followed the staff hallways before entering the main areas of the mall. Everywhere she looked; there were discarded bags but not another soul in sight.

Checking the directory, she found a camping store just around the corner from her.

She quickly grabbed a change of clothes and shoes suited for the forests and the long hike ahead. Pulling off one of the first aid kits from a shelf, Aubrie quickly applied antiseptic and bandages to her wounds. The cuts weren't deep, and her body could fend off any kind of infection, but she wasn't one to take unnecessary risk.

Stretching her body to acclimatise to the bandages, she felt hot pinpricks along her form as the antiseptic ran its course. Shepard exhaled quietly and took a moment of respite. She could hear footsteps and indistinct chatter.

"Shit," she muttered.

Shepard lay prone, using her elbows and legs to push her towards the back of the store where the climbing axes were. She grabbed one off of the shelf and returned back to the counter with haste. She steadied her breathing as she rolled her shoulders. Minutes went by as the foot falls grew louder.

" _Kirashak farthtall."_

She could feel the thud of the boots against the ground, creeping ever so closer. The repugnant odour of whatever the batarian was smoking filled the air. Aubrie slowly turned and shifted her weight onto her knees. She remained crouched, coiled and ready to strike. The batarian soldier walked closer towards the counter, looking around as if he was on a Sunday stroll. He took another step towards the counter, and took another drag.

He was within striking distance. His guard was down.

Adrenaline flooded Aubrie's blood. She sprung from behind the counter, body torqued back. The batarian's surprise was clear on his unprotected face. Aubrie swung with all her might, her muscles throwing all her strength behind that one merciless strike. The climbing axe pierced through flesh and bone with a sickeningly wet crunch. The batarian's neck was wrenched back and snapped under the staggering force. His rifle clattered to the ground as his limp body crumbled over the display. Shepard dragged the body over the counter, and policed the weapon before returning back to the axe shelf form another axe.

Then, she slinked into the clothing racks and waited. Her heart thumped in her chest, her veins burned, the rush was almost _euphoric_.

" _Kirashak! Kirashak! Farthall!"_

The call was becoming louder, possibly frantic or angry, Aubrie couldn't tell. She remained coiled and tensed within the clothing rack. Multiple signatures were closing in on the store. Shepard looked down at the batarian weapon, it was jagged, with attachments haphazardly added on. It lacked the streamline packages that she was used to with the UNSC. Thumbing what she assumed to be the safety switch, she felt the weapon hum lightly in her hands.

The batarians entered the store. There were three of them, spaced evenly apart in a triangle formation. Their weapons were raised as they swept through the shop. One of them moved towards the counter.

" _Kirashak, eth hethin!"_ he roared. _"Sirak!"_

It seemed they found their dead friend.

Fanning out, the batarians surged through the aisles, barely giving a cursory glance. Either they were sloppy, or they believed that their comrade's killer had moved on. Either way, Shepard wasn't going to let them leave alive.

"C'mon asshole," she muttered under her breath, hands twitching.

Waiting for one of the batarian soldiers to near her position, Aubrie steadied her breath. She waited amongst the clothing racks like a predator, waiting for her prey to drop its guard.

The batarian soldier panned across the clothing aisle, and then turned around.

Thumbing the safeties, Shepard pounced. She surged at the unsuspecting soldier, and crash tackled him from behind. The batarian fell face first, and before he could recover, Aubrie brought the butt of the rifle down hard on the nape of his neck. She felt the batarian spasm beneath her as she struck the first blow. His neck guard cracked under the second, and on the third, a wet crunch filled her ears as blood flowed sluggishly from the armour. The batarian went limp.

Aubrie shouldered the rifle, rounded the aisle and zeroed in on the next target. She had caught him like a deer in headlights. She squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked back into her shoulder as it hurled a spike at the batarian. Shields flashed, knocking the projectile away. She pulled her sights back on target and fired again. The batarian staggered as the spike pierced the abdominal plate. His rifle clattered to the floor as he collapsed to his knees.

Shepard glared at the reflective visor, bringing the weapon sights onto the faceplate. She fired again, filling the room with a whipcrack echo. The batarian soldier gurgled as blood flowed, and then fell limp.

" _BRAK!"_ the final soldier bellowed.

The Commander quickly rolled away from the kill zone, and moved parallel to the clothing aisle.

Scared, the batarian soldier opened fire. Bullets smashed through the displays and merchandise, ripping up clothes and shelves. Shepard cursed inwardly.

Springing from cover, she brought her sights in on the soldier, and squeezed the trigger. The batarian was caught off guard. He staggered and back stepped under the barrage of sharpened rods. Shepard kept her finger on the trigger, but then the weapon stopped and hissed. Gas vented out of the sideport, secondary heat brushed against her face like a desert wind.

"Fuck!"

No time to retreat. Aubrie dropped the weapon, and vaulted over the shelf. Slamming her shoulder into the second aisle, she toppled the bag rack onto the batarian. She immediately leapt onto the metal frame, pinning the soldier beneath her as she drew the climbing axe.

The hardened steel tip came down quickly, burrowing deep inside the soldier's skull with a sickening crunch. Blood flowed through the helmet and onto the cold floor. Shepard lowered herself onto the batarian, and placed an ear against his helmet, straining to hear any COM chatter.

Nothing.

She was in the clear for now. Stepping off the display, she policed another rifle. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air greedily. Aubrie needed to move. If the batarians had any form of military discipline, someone would notice one of their squads going offline. But she needed to get herself cleaned up and fast.

Thankfully most decent clothing chains of any kind would stock articles of her size. Aubrie was conscious enough to pick something form fitting that it wouldn't get caught, but not too tight as to hinder movement. Hydrophopic clothing was a necessity, and this camping outlet had plenty.

Shepard immediately tore off her ripped clothes, wincing as the adrenaline wore off. All too soon, she could feel the burning pain of her bruised body crying out in defiance. She dumped her bloodied clothes and used kit haphazardly on the floor. Aubrie pulled a backpack off from a shelf and threw in a few water filters, first aid kits, socks, clothes, Swiss army knife, and cutlery. She didn't bother with a tent or sleeping bag, those items took up too much room, and it was summer in Silver Glass, the temperature rarely dipped below 25C.

Satisfied with her gear, food was next on the agenda. The camping stores had plenty of MREs, but most were for people who had the luxury of time to prepare for food.

"Beggars can't be choosers," she said to herself, shoving the MREs into the bag.

Cautiously, Aubrie peeked out from the storefront and moved out into the open. It was too quiet for her liking. It was as if everyone had just disappeared.

She stayed close to the vendors in the middle of the walkway. Rule 1 of urban survival is to never get cornered, and diving into a store could very well spell death for her since all she had was a rifle she barely knew how to use.

Dust fell from the ceiling as the lights flickered. A dull thump rippled across the floors. Then, in the eerie silence of the mall, a crescendo of glass and rubble surged through in a deafening cry. It was time to leave before the mall comes down.

Hauling the bag back onto her shoulders and locking in the waist strap, Aubrie gave a soft grunt as she adjusted to the new weight. Shepard then double backed through the way came, slinking through the staff hallways and out the exit. Aubrie turned her gaze out into the metropolitan area, where the burning husks of UNSC ships scythed through towers as if they were nothing more than wheat crops.

Soot and dust clouds covered the grounds in a thick film, while plumes of smoke curled high into the sky. Turning her sight upwards, Shepard saw the burning ember streaks cascading through the evening clouds.

The ground rumbled beneath her again. Buildings shuddered and gave way. Seconds later, a thunderous soundwave tore through the city. The UNSC naval garrison was still putting up a fight – but slugs were slipping through.

Shepard jogged down the boulevard and ignored the pain. She'd endured worse during training – except the instructors don't turn trainees into Swiss cheese.

 _Keep moving or die, keep moving or die_ , she repeated.

The air was thick with dirt and smog; soot filled her mouth and nostrils whenever she breathed. Her chest heaved and hacked to expunge the debris from her airways.

She turned another corner and followed the road to the park where the air was a bit clearer. In the parking lot were two dead officers by their cruiser. They had gone down with a fight; spent casings were littered around them, their armoured vests battered, dented and pierced. Aubrie took their weapons, an M6 sidearm, and an MA5K, plus a few extra magazines.

In the boot were riot gear that the officers didn't have time to put on, save for the ballistic vests and helmets. The greaves, pauldrons and vambraces wouldn't do much to stop a bullet, but Shepard wasn't too keen on breaking a bone if she got into a brawl with one of the batarians. What was left of the riot gear would have to be enough.

" _This is Lieutenant Jacob Taylor broadcasting on all frequencies. I am in need of immediate support over!"_

Aubrie's head snapped back up. That was the cruiser's radio. She scrambled to the open driver door and threw herself into the seat.

"Commander Aubrie Shepard here, what's your location, Taylor?"

" _Taco Maco on Third Street, Tenth Avenue."_

"Copy that, hang tight. I'm five hundred metres from your position."

Shepard left the police cruiser behind and turned south, jogging on 11th Avenue towards Taylor's last known position. She could feel the ground shake beneath her as orbital kinetic rods struck the planet, as gunfire rumbled in the distance. Aubrie remained close to the walls, but not too close just in case of ricochets.

Nearing Third Street on Tenth Avenue, she could hear the boom of heavy gunfire. She had to pick up the pace.

Aubrie continued on past 3rd Street and turned on 4th. Entering 10th Avenue, Shepard turned north where a group of batarians were firing on Taylor. The fireteams were oblivious to her presence. Silently, she advanced on their position and readied her carbine.

Fire and manoeuvre that was the name of the game. She had to move fast and not let them pin her. Preferably, she could move in within melee distance and use her faster reflexes and greater strength to her advantage. That is if none of these batarians had _biotics_.

Aubrie stayed low and kept her back up against the parallel parked cars. There was an overturned Gauss Warthog in the middle of the street. No way she could put it back on its feet and use its guns, but maybe it might have something more useful on board.

Pushing down hard, Shepard leapt from cover and dashed towards the vehicle. She came to a grinding halt and rolled into safety. The driver was dead, her neck broken. The gunner lay sprawled on the asphalt with two spikes sticking out of his chest.

Shepard looked into the cabin. The MA5CIR was a mangled wreck, but in the passenger seat was an M80CIR Shotgun. It was nicknamed "Matey" by shipboard personnel because of its ruggedness, reliability and operational flexibility. A standard magazine was a penta-rotary tube, each containing five shells, equating to 25 rounds.

 _Perfect_.

The M80 was designed to deal with Brutes quickly at close range. It shouldn't have any difficulty dealing with batarians. Grabbing the ammo belt, Aubrie slung it over her shoulders, and retrieved the shotgun. She checked the display within the sights; the weapon was chambered with armour piercing darts.

Positioning herself behind the Warthog, Aubrie aligned her sights onto the batarian officer. He was shouting orders at his troops, gesturing them to fan out and overwhelm Taylor's position with pure fire power.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling, she fired. The M80 boomed voraciously. A plume of smoke and flame left the barrel. The armour piercing dart sliced through the air and found its mark. The batarian's shield flashed for a brief moment and overloaded. He staggered under the merciless blow, but before he could react, Shepard fired again. His chest plate gave in, and his rib cage blew out. Bone and gore rained down on the ground behind him. He was dead before he even began to fall.

Shepard shifted onto the next target. The batarian's head was instantly vaporised in a cloud of red. They still didn't know where she was. The fighting was too loud. But she knew her cover wouldn't last for long.

She locked onto another batarian behind a car. Aubrie aimed for his ankles. Squeezing the trigger, the projectile left the barrel at blistering speeds, shed off the sabot and scythed through the batarian's legs. The soldier toppled over onto the ground, and Shepard finished him off with one last shot.

She cycled through the tubes and chambered the round, before advancing. Time slowed to a crawl as adrenaline pumped through her body. Her lungs sucked in air greedily as her legs pushed her into near flight. She rushed the batarian positions, vaulting over a sedan and tackling a batarian soldier.

She pumped one round into the hapless troop, and then raised her weapon to engage the rest. Having flanked their position, Aubrie forced the batarian right flank into a retreat. Sidestepping onto the boulevard to her right, Aubrie moved behind the gardens and pressed her advantage.

The batarians, forced into the open were cut down mercilessly by machine gun fire.

Aubrie cycled through the ammo tubes again and turned to engage the batarian left flank. She popped in and out of cover, firing through the cars to hit the batarians. It is instinctual behaviour to move away from danger. By hitting the batarians through cover, she had won the psychological battle. The batarians began retreating for safer positions, leapfrogging back down 3rd Street.

Two men emerged from Taco Maco, both were armed with M61 LMGs, configured with short barrels for manoeuvrability. They fanned out and engaged the batarian flank on 3rd Street in perfect cohesion. They used their LMGs as if they were SMGs, quick fast and methodical.

Aubrie moved into the centre, staying close to the cars as bullets smashed through windows, and zip past her head. She waited patiently for a shot, waiting for a batarian to make the mistake of giving away their position. One popped out of cover and fired half-heartedly at the man with a shaved head and dark skin. His tac vest took the brunt of the hit, knocking him to the ground. A split second later, a spike glanced off his front plate and ricocheted off into the air.

"Jacob, you okay?" the other man asked.

"Fine, Zhao," Taylor growled.

Pulling himself back up, he rested his bipod on the bonnet of an SUV and held down the trigger. Automatic gunfire ripped through the vehicles, punching through hulls and windshields.

Shepard searched for the batarian that scored the hit on Jacob, and found him taking cover by a hatchback. Lining up, she pulled the trigger and emptied the rest of the ammo tube into vehicle. She saw the blood splatter on the car behind the hatchback, and formed a grim smile on her lips.

"He's down," she growled.

Slinking back into safety, she cycled through the next tube, and pushed down the hill.

"Two targets by red Vala!" Jacob spotted.

Zhao hosed the vehicle. Spent casings clattered onto the ground around him as he shredded the vehicle. Flushed out of cover, the batarians made a mad dash for the nearby cars. But a split second window was all Aubrie needed. She pulled the trigger, and caught a batarian dead centre. The other was hit in the leg by Zhao. Scrambling along the road, the batarian tried to pull himself to safety, but Zhao had advanced into the perfect kill spot. There was nowhere for the hapless batarian to go. A quick burst brought the solider to a quick death.

"Target down," Zhao said coolly.

"We're clear," Taylor said.

Aubrie knelt by a station wagon and checked her surroundings. They were clear for now.

"Form up on the red station wagon," Aubrie shouted.

"Copy that."

The red station wagon had run itself onto the boulevard and crashed into a garden box, creating an L-shape cover that would buy them time if they were caught off guard. The three converged onto the car; Zhao knelt by the bonnet, hiding his head behind the A-pillar, while Taylor hid behind the garden box.

"Commander Aubrie Shepard, DOD Advisor," she introduced, using the ONI euphemism.

"Lieutenant Jacob Taylor, Helljumper."

"Zhao Yi-Jun, OGA."

OGA, that probably meant FIA.

"What's the plan?" Zhao asked.

"Get out of the city," Shepard answered.

"We need to link up with the rest of the team."

"But where?" Zhao questioned. "Communications are shot up."

"Safe house in Greene," Taylor suggested. "It's worth a shot. We can resupply there too."

"Greene is forty mikes by car, it'll take too long."

"Got any better ideas?"

"Sewers," Aubrie pipped up. "We'll use that and hop towns to the Cabin."

She looked back and forth between the two men as they mulled over the decision, going into the sewage system would mean that they would lose communications and could be trapped down there, not to mention the smell. However, if they stayed up on the surface, some batarian bird could score a lucky shot on them.

Sewers it was.

…

" _Sewage… not the most romantic thing to talk about, but without it, but it's generally the safest way to get out of the city when all else fails."  
_ _ **-UEG Department of Public Health and Safety**_

…

 **2145 hours (Local); 0345 hours, March 28** **th** **2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Valinor City, Silver Glass, Elysium  
Skyllian Verge**

It was dark by the time they had exited the sewage pipes, and splashed into the swamps. Waist deep in the water, Shepard wondered if her body could fight off such an assault on her immune system. How many pathogens managed to get into her body via the cuts she had.

"How far out are we?" Zhao asked.

Taylor glanced at his TACPAD, and then shook his head.

"Network's been destroyed. We're in the blind."

Aubrie watched as the Lieutenant cross referenced every map to try and pinpoint their location. They had jumped into sewers and followed the signs. Then they had gotten out at a water treatment plant, where they had gotten a respite from the stench and left through the outflow of treated water.

There was only one swamp at Silver Glass, and that was at the north of the city. Greene was at the west.

"Look north," Shepard said. "We're far out."

"Shit," Zhao muttered. "We're not going to get to the safe house until morning."

"Let's get some chow down first before heading out," Shepard said.

They moved to a small island in the swamp, and hunkered down within the shrubbery.

Unslinging her bag, Aubrie opened the main pocket and fished out the MREs. The light snacks were devoured first as they waited for the exothermic reaction of the water pack to heat up the contents of their main meal. Once it was ready, they quickly wolfed down the meals.

In popular culture, MREs were seen as terrible and bland. But Military Shrinks had always said that if the food tastes better, troops would be more willing to eat it all, and it would boost morale. Civilian markets for MREs on the other hand, also demanded the same quality but for a different reason.

Aubrie's butter chicken and rice was flavourful, and well textured. And considering all the running they had been through, a food was a welcome respite.

"I hear something," Zhao whispered.

Shepard looked out across the darkened swamp. The cloud cover ahead blocked out the moons of Elysium, there was no ambient light for her enhanced eyes to take advantage of.

"Anyone got thermal?" she asked.

"No," Taylor said.

The three quietened down and strained their ears. Above the rustling of the summer breeze, there was the hum of engines.

Slowly, lights began to crest over a distant ridgeline, and approach the swamp outflow. Aubrie aimed her sights on the beams and rested her finger on the trigger guard, and her thumb against the safeties.

The vehicle neared their position; they could hear the pitched wine of turbo fans and a thrum of something alien approach them. It wasn't one of theirs.

"Shit," Zhao hissed.

Spotlights cut through the darkness, forcing the three to push away from the thicket and hunker down in the hole.

"You think it can find us?" Shepard wondered.

"Dunno, maybe," Taylor said, unsure.

The whine grew louder as the vehicle approached the island. Aubrie steadied her breath as her body tensed. Her hand began to shake and tremble as her heart threatened to break out of her chest. Dragging in another deep breath, she flexed her fingers. Her hand stopped shaking, but her heat still hammered.

 _FOOM!_

A deafening explosion tore through the air as a crimson flash sliced through the darkness.

Instinctively, Aubrie pulled herself to her feet and shouldered her shotgun.

"Splaser!" Zhao shouted.

It had to be a friendly.

Shepard peered over the thicket, panning her apertures across the smouldering wreck of a light vehicle. It was half submerged, and smoke curled from its gaping hull.

Batarian soldiers stumbled from the wreck and a daze. Two splashed into the water, trying to regain their footing. One had his left arm burned off, and the other had a shard of shrapnel imbedded between the chest and abdominal plate.

Zhao and Taylor opened fire, the chatter of their guns cutting down the enemy soldiers.

Slowly and carefully, the three fanned out, with Aubrie taking the centre. She ignored the cold water that flooded up to her waist and slowly advanced on the wreckage.

No movement.

"Hold your fire!" a woman's voice called. It was an accent she rarely heard, General Australian.

"Miranda?" Jacob hollered back.

"Two coming out!"

Aubrie looked towards the source of the voice, and waited for two to emerge. The first was a woman, who Shepard assumed to be Miranda. She had her ebony hair tied up in a ponytail. Her ice blue eyes carried a level of gravitas and authority that most politicians would kill for, and her features were elegant, demure and athletic. In this instance, Aubrie knew that this kind of woman was someone who could easily blend into a crowd, or draw the attention of the entire room at the drop of a hat.

She jogged out from behind the trees, and panned her eyes back and forth between the three. Seconds later, a man emerged, whom Shepard instantly recognised.

"Langley?"

"Aubrie?" the man smiled. "Good to see you."

"You two know each other?" Miranda interrupted.

"Yeah, met a few days ago," Langley answered. He then turned to Jacob and Zhao. "Where's Baron and Niket?"

"They were headed to the Cabin."

"Which way?"

"Via A-three-oh-three," Zhao answered.

Aubrie watched as a frown formed across Miranda's features. Langley muttered something in German which sounded like a cuss.

"A-three-oh-three is a shit storm," he said frankly. "Whole highway's been clogged."

The rule of thumb for evasion is to never take major routes. Infrastructure is always the first target as it is the best way to cut off reinforcements and funnel the tempo of the battle. A303 was the major highway that passed through the Loethellan Mountain Ranges and towards the inland cities. At this time of year, the A303 would be packed with travellers from both directions. The entire route would be a highway of death.

Under the moonlight, the group of survivors headed towards the Cabin.

…

"" _The only defence against evil, violent people is good people who are more skilled at violence."_ **  
-Rory Miller**

…

 **0425 hours (Local); 1025 hours, March 28** **th** **2556 (UNSC Military Calendar)  
Lothellan Mountain Ranges, Silver Glass, Elysium  
Skyllian Verge**

The Cabin was one out of seven underground fortresses on Elysium. Located in the Lothellan Mountain Ranges, it was designed to bleed out invaders in a war of attrition. Within it were facilities to support small a small city's population, and to protect it were a web of anti-missile systems, lasers and Onager MACs. These subterranean fortresses served as a means to hide, and protect. The clusters of remote controlled weaponry would be dispersed in such a way as to draw attention away from the base's true location, keeping the people safe while bleeding the invaders.

Shepard could almost breathe a sigh of relief as they descended for the lower levels. She'd never been in an underground fortress before; most of her service was spent in space, jumping between systems in the hopes of delaying the Covenant.

As the elevator doors opened, the scent of clinical detergent and antiseptics assaulted Aubrie. People were lined up against the hallway walls, some were in stretchers, and others were lying on the cold ground. Doctors and nurses rushed back and forth frantically, treating as many as they could.

Shepard looped around the hallway and followed a group of engineers through the maintenance access tunnels, before exiting out into a mess hall that had been converted into a hospital. Walking up to a makeshift front desk, Aubrie drew the attention of an overworked Corporal.

"Can I help you ma'am?" he asked tiredly.

He looked like he was barely surviving on power naps and coffee.

"I'm looking for Captain Hannah Shepard, and Sam Shepard, they're my parents."

Aubrie's stomach began to turn into knots as a fiery trail ran down her back as she watched the Corporal type in the names.

"We have a Scott Shepard in intensive care."

Her heart plummeted, the burning wave replaced by an icy chill.

"Where is he?" she said, barely managing to school her features neutral.

"Section three-B, slot thirty-four. It's down that hallway to the right," the Corporal pointed.

"Thanks," Shepard managed numbly, and then left.

Scott Shepard was in the intensive care unit, watched over by a team of nurses, doctors, and drones. A spike had entered his temple, and exited through his lower jaw, effectively destroying his face and sending bone matter into his brain. Extensive surgery would allow a full recovery, except the surgeons were already overworked.

Taking a seat by the bedside, Aubrie cupped her hands around Scott's. His body was battered, burned and bruised, and covered in a network of tubes and bandages. Unfortunately, Scott wasn't the only one in critical condition. The entire level had been filled with beds and stretchers.

"How bad?" she asked the attending medical officer.

"He's hanging in there," the woman answered.

A beep notified the doctor's pager told her to be elsewhere, leaving Aubrie alone with her brother.

She rested her head against her hands, and breathed a heavy sigh as her body ached in exhaustion.

"They got Melanie, George, and Geoff," she whispered, her voice wavering. "They're gone."

Aubrie felt like shit. Mentally, physically, her entire form just felt _wrong_. It wasn't the weight of the fighting that had stretched into days, it was because she failed. She failed to protect her sister, her nephew, her brother in law. She'd been foolish enough to let herself believe that when peace was declared, the fighting would be over. It was far from anything but.

"I should've seen it coming," Aubrie explained, tears welling in her eyes. "We should've taken the back route… Dammit, she wasn't supposed to die. And god… George… he."

She bit down on her lip and bowed her head, gripping her brother's hand tighter. Melanie was supposed to grow old with Geoff, and George was to have his own family. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be this cruel.

Aubrie cleared her throat, and wiped her tears away furiously.

"We'll kill them all," she swore with conviction, and with as much strength she could muster.

Her head throbbed, and her body was numb, she could feel sleep tugging at the back of her tired eyes. It was all so tempting just to let go for a moment, and catch a few short minutes of sleep. The sound of the world drowned out, and soon everything faded into darkness.

…

" _The biggest thing they don't tell you about war is the smell… and that some of you might start to like it too much."  
_ _ **-Anonymous**_

…

 **Afterword**

To that anon reviewer – what do you mean Shepard and Vakarian romance?

As of writing this, _Lost Legacy_ is drawing closer to a million views… I must say that I do feel a bit threatened by it. I know that must sound strange because I wrote it. But then again, that story has five years for its fanbase to build while _Shadow Contingency_ is still quite young.


End file.
